


The Labyrinth of London: Of Nightmares and Kinsmen

by FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise



Series: The Labyrinth of London [12]
Category: Labyrinth (1986), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Episode: s02e02 The Hounds of Baskerville, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, The Hound of the Baskervilles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise/pseuds/FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jareth just wants a case. A little jaunt to Baskerville with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson to check up on a rumor of a monstrous hound shouldn’t cause too much trouble, could it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I: Fix

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Thin White Sleuth...](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15883) by Pika-la-Cynique. 



> The Almighty Disclaimer  
> Oh Moffat and Gatiss,  
> Henson and Doyle,  
> To you belongs all the characters  
> And none so for me!
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> The transcript is by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the first time I am going to say this, but do read “Bosom Companions? Friends?” before reading this story. There are aspects of that story that will come into play with this one. Also, (though it does not apply to this story) I made a slight change of the time line in “The Babe with the Power” so that between New Year’s and Irene showing up at 221b it only a few days later, not a few weeks later. I messed up the time line of _Sherlock_.

Some days it was difficult being the flatmate to the world’s only actively working consulting detective. Other days, it was quite nice. On this particular day, it was just odd.

Jareth came into the 221b in a dress shirt and trousers. His outfit was odd since he generally always went out with at a suit jacket as well. The pig’s blood that was staining his clothes was also an anomaly. That and the harpoon was not an accessory Jareth usually carried.

“Well, that was tedious,” Jareth said.

“You went on the Tube like that?” Sarah asked, taking a sip of tea.

Jareth made a face. “None of the cabs would take me AND I ruined an Armani shirt.”

Sarah covered her mouth and tried not to laugh. “But you solved the case?”

“Yes,” Jareth huffed, “I am showering.”

“You need it rat,” Hoggle said, coming out of the kitchen with a sandwich.

“Why does Hedgewart keep stealing our food?” Jareth asked.

“It’s Hoggle!” 

“So you confess!” Jareth said, pointing his harpoon at the dwarf.

“Jareth, what did we discuss about my friends?” Sarah asked.

“You only said I could not threaten death against any boys who would have the audacity to ask you for your time. You did not specify for male friends,” Jareth said.

Sarah face palmed. “Jareth, shower, now. You’re dripping on the floor. Mrs. Hudson will stop giving me tea if the blood stains.”

&%&%&%

A little later, Jareth was clean and wearing a different suit. He was barefoot and pacing the apartment with the harpoon. Sarah flipped through the newspapers. The goblins and Hoggle sat around the apartment, waiting for something to happen. (Well, Hoggle was waiting. The goblins were deciding if they should attempt juggling Sarah’s VHS collection for the fifth time.)

“Nothing?” Jareth asked.

“Military coup in Uganda,” Sarah said.

Jareth shrugged.

Sarah smiled. “Another photo of you with the fedora.”

“I do not understand the fascination people have of that hat,” Jareth said.

“I am not going into that discussion with you again,” Sarah said, “Cabinet reshuffle.”

“There is nothing of importance?” Jareth said. He slammed the end of the harpoon into the ground and let out a cry of boredom (which is similar to a cry of anguish, only much more whiney). “Sarah, I need some. Get me some.”

“No,” Sarah said calmly. She tucked a lock of hair that got loose from her barrette behind her ear.

“Get me some,” Jareth said.

“Goblins, get out your money!” one of the goblins said. There was a rush of activity as goblins got out scraps of paper with “I.O.U.”s and chicken deeds as well as pouches with bits of buttons and copper pieces.

Sarah spoke louder, but still calmly. “No. Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what.”

Jareth put the harpoon against the “dining room” table. (It was actually a card table in front of the piano.) He gripped the table, obviously agitated.

“Anyway, you’ve paid everyone off, remember? No one within a two mile radius will sell you any,” Sarah said.

“Whose stupid idea was that?” Jareth asked. He saw Sarah give him “the look” and he changed his focus. “Mrs. Hudson!” He began throwing paperwork off the table.

“Jareth, you’re doing really well. Don’t give up now.”

Jareth continued tossing papers. “Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me.” 

Sarah could see the perverted hamster in Jareth’s mind begin to turn the wheel. Jareth gave his best “I can make your wildest dreams come true” smile. He leaned over Sarah and whispered in her ear, “Please. I can give you anything you want. Absolutely _anything_.”

Sarah smiled politely. “Sorry, I can’t help. I am not interested in what you could give me.”

Jareth went back to moping. “It was worth a try.” The deranged hamster took control again. Jareth dove for the fireplace and started searching under newspapers.

Mrs. Hudson came up and made a noise of disapproval. 

“My secret supply: what have you done with my secret supply?” Jareth asked.

“Eh?” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?” Jareth said.

Mrs. Hudson put her hands on her hips. “You know you never let me touch your things! A chance to clean would be a fine thing.”

Jareth stood up quickly and faced Mrs. Hudson. “I thought you weren’t my housekeeper.”

“I’m not,” Mrs. Hudson said in a tone that made Sarah want to run away very quickly.

Jareth went back to pick up his harpoon. Sarah made a motion of exasperation before going to get her computer. 

“How about a nice cuppa, and perhaps you could put away your harpoon?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

“I need something stronger than tea. Seven per cent stronger,” Jareth said. He pointed the harpoon at Mrs. Hudson, causing her to flinch. “You’ve been to see Mr. Chatterjee again.” Jareth noticed the flinch and put back the harpoon. He paced around Mrs. Hudson.

“Pardon?” Mrs. Hudson said.

“Sandwich shop. That’s a new dress, but there’s flour on the sleeve. You wouldn’t dress like that for baking,” Jareth said.

“Jareth,” Sarah groaned.

“Thumbnail: tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads don’t we?” Jareth paused and smelled Mrs. Hudson. “Kasbah Nights. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn’t you agree? I’ve written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It’s on the website – you should look it up. Well, I wrote it. Sarah posted it.”

Mrs. Hudson rubbed her forehead. “Please.”

“I wouldn’t pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He’s got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about,” Jareth said.

“Jareth!” Sarah said.

“Well, nobody except me,” Jareth said.

Mrs. Hudson became visibly upset. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I really don’t.” Mrs. Hudson left 221b and slammed the door behind her.

Jareth leapt over the back of his chair and perched on the seat. He wrapped his arms around his knees and began to rock and back and forth. Sarah tossed a newspaper at the former owl.

“What was that all that about?” Sarah asked.

“You don’t understand,” Jareth said.

“Go after her and apologize,” Sarah said. 

Jareth looked over to Sarah. “Apologize?”

“Yes. That’s what you do when you hurt someone’s feelings. Don’t they teach that in goblin school or something?” Sarah asked.

“Yes!” was the response from the goblins.

“Oh, Sarah, I envy you so much.”

“Why would you envy me?” Sarah asked.

“Your mind: it’s so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine is like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad. I need a case!” Jareth shouted the last part.

Sarah shouted back. “You’ve just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!”

Jareth jumped out of the chair and back into it in his normal seating position. He was tapping a strange beat with his fingers. “That was this morning!” Jareth said in a strained voice. “When is the next one?”

Sarah brought up a message on the blog and read it out loud. “Dear Mr. Jareth King, I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please can you help? I like to look at your stories and the stories that Sarah Williams has put on here. Is she a real nurse? I know that you try and help people and try to find things that have got lost. Bluebell is not a person so it might not seem important but she is very important. Not like a person but a rabbit. I don't know what happened but it was funny. Bluebell started to glow at night time. Like a fairy. I went down to the garden and locked her hutch for the night, but when I got there the next morning before went to school she had gone. The hutch was still shut and locked up. Please, please, please say you'll help me. Lots of love Kirsty Stapleton aged 8.”

“A rabbit! A missing rabbit!” Jareth shouted.

“I thought it might cheer you up,” Sarah said.

“Ah! What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there’s an escaped rabbit.”

“Are you serious?” one of the goblins asked.

Jareth had a dark look cross his face. “It’s this or Cluedo.”

There was a moment of silence and then screams of terror from the goblins. Hoggle looked concerned. Sarah quickly stood up and put up her laptop. 

“We are never playing that again!” Sarah said.

Jareth leaned against the table, a self-satisfied smirk making an appearance. “Why not, precious?”

“Because it’s not actually possible for the victim to have done it unless it is the movie but there were a lot more plot twists in-between,” Sarah said.

“Well, it was the only possible solution,” Jareth said.

Sarah sat down again. “It’s not in the rules.”

Jareth rolled his eyes. “Then the rules are wrong.”

The doorbell rang. Sarah held up her hand for a moment and Jareth looked towards the door. 

“Single ring,” Sarah said.

“Maximum pressure just under the half second,” Jareth said.

The duo said at the same time, “Client.”

“Everyone, out! We have found a way to amuse Jareth!” Sarah said, shooing the goblins away.

&%&%&%

The client’s name was Henry Knight. Before he was willing to speak, he demanded that they watch a documentary on Dartmoor. It was one of those documentaries that might end up late at night on cable. He held an old journal close to himself. Jareth was properly dressed and watching the client. Sarah watched the documentary.

A presenter gave a voice over as the movie showed pictures of the moors and of a military base known as Baskerville. _Nasty place from what I know._ “Dartmoor. It’s always been a place of myth and legend, but is there something else lurking out here – something very real? Because Dartmoor’s also home to one of the government’s most secret of operations the chemical and biological weapons research center which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down. Since the end of the Second World War, there have been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments: genetic mutations, animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is: are all of them still inside?”

The footage switched to an indoor scene where Henry was talking. “I was just a kid. It-it was on the moor.” There was a cutaway to a child’s drawing of a huge snarling dog with red eyes. “It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jareth picked up the remote and shut off the television. “What did you see?” Jareth asked.

“Oh. I... I was just about to say,” Henry said.

“Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing,” Jareth said.

Henry looked embarrassed. “Yes. Sorry, yes, of course. ’Scuse me.” He reached into his jacket pocket for a paper napkin to wipe his nose.

“In your own time,” Sarah said, trying to put Mr. Knight at ease.

“But quite quickly,” Jareth said.

“Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. King?” Henry asked.

“It was a very long time ago. I can barely remember it,” Jareth said.

“It’s an amazing place. It’s like nowhere else. It’s sort of... bleak but beautiful,” Henry said.

“Not interested. Moving on,” Jareth said.

“We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we’d go out onto the moor.”

“Yes, good. Family bonding. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?” Jareth said. He was promptly smacked with a pillow by Sarah.

“There’s a place it’s... it’s a sort of local landmark called Dewer’s Hollow,” Henry said.

“That’s an ancient name for the Devil, if I remember correctly,” Jareth said.

“Did you see the Devil that night?” Sarah asked.

Henry whispered, “Yes. It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes. It got him, tore at him, tore him apart. I can’t remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad’s body was never found.”

“Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous: dog? Wolf?” Sarah offered.

“Or a genetic experiment,” Jareth said in mock horror.

“Are you laughing at me, Mr. King?” Henry asked.

“Why, are you joking?” Jareth asked.

“My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously,” Henry said.

“And, I assume, it did wonders for Devon tourism,” Jareth said.

Sarah glared at Jareth briefly before turning her attention to the client. “Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?”

“I’m not sure you can help me, Mr. King, since you find it all so funny,” Henry said. He stood up and made his way to the door.

“Because of what happened last night,” Jareth said.

“What happened last night?” Sarah asked.

Henry turned to face them. “How... how do you know?”

“I did not know; I noticed. You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you’ve now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I would be delighted.”

“How on earth did you notice all that?” Henry asked, sitting down again.

Sarah said quickly, “It’s not important...”

“Punched-out holes where your ticket’s been checked...”

“Not now, Jareth,” Sarah sighed.

“Oh please. I’ve been cooped up in here for ages,” Jareth whined.

“You’re just showing off,” Sarah said.

“Of course. I am a show-off. That is what we do,” Jareth said, surprised that Sarah has somehow missed that over the past year. “The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you did not take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and around your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich.”

“How did you know it was disappointing?” Henry asked.

“Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl – the female handwriting is quite distinctive. You wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later (after she got off, I imagine) you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You’ve been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you are not that interested in her after all. Then there’s the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your shaking fingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here. It is just after nine fifteen. You’re desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?

“No. You’re right. You’re completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick,” Henry said.

“It’s my job,” Jareth leaned forward and said, “Now shut up and smoke.”

Henry rolled up a cigarette and lit it.

“It is going to take forever to get that smell out. Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?” Sarah asked.

Henry took a drag before speaking. “I know. That... my...”

Jareth inhaled all of the smoke that Henry expelled before sitting back down. Sarah tried to ignore her flatmate. “That must be a quite a trauma. Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this...” Jareth sucked up the smoke again. “...to account for it?”

“That’s what Doctor Mortimer says,” Henry said, “My therapist. Louise Mortimer. She’s the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons.”

“And what happened when you went back to Dewer’s Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you are consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?” Jareth asked.

Henry had a far-off look as he remembered. “It’s a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid” 

“What did you see?” Jareth asked.

“Footprints on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart,” Henry said.

“Man’s or a woman’s?” Sarah asked.

Henry said, “Neither. They were...”

Jareth interrupted. “Is that it? Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?”

Henry tried to speak again. “Yes, but they were...”

“No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking,” Jareth said.

Sarah shot a “you were King of the Goblins, you won’t take a look at a Hell Hound?” look.

“No, but what about the footprints?” Henry asked.

“Oh, they are probably paw prints but those could be anything, therefore nothing. Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me,” Jareth said with venom. He went to the kitchen.

“Goblin King, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!” Henry said.

Jareth froze. “Say that again.”

Henry pulled out the journal he brought with him. “My great-grandmother said that when she was small, she was taken away by the goblins and their king. Now, your website says that you were a king but it doesn’t say of what and…”

“It says it is entirely fictional,” Jareth said, smiling insincerely.

“Then how do you show up in my great-grandmother’s journal?” Henry asked, “She drew you every year, the picture becoming clearer and clearer until the year she died. When I saw your picture in the papers, I knew that you were him.”

“I also look like Jeremy Eden. I am certainly not him,” Jareth said.

“The coincidence is too great,” Henry said.

“I am not the Goblin King,” Jareth said.

Henry sighed. “I will leave you be then.”

“I do want you to say it again though. What type of footprints you found.”

“They were the footprints of a gigantic... hound,” Henry said clearly.

“I’ll take the case,” Jareth said with a smirk.

“Sorry, what?” Sarah said.

Jareth began to pace. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It is very promising.”

“What? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they’re very promising?” Sarah asked.

Jareth stopped in front of Sarah. “It has nothing to do with footprints. As ever, precious, you were not listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it?”

“Some unpleasant mutterings here and there,” Sarah said.

“Sounds like a good place to start,” Jareth said.

“Ah! You’ll come down, then?” Henry asked hopefully.

“No. Far too busy,” Jareth said, “I’ll send Sarah.”

Sarah slumped in her chair and rubbed her face in frustration. “What are you talking about, you’re busy? You don’t have a case! A minute ago you were complaining.”

“Bluebell, Sarah! I’ve got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit!” Jareth exclaimed.

“Oh, sorry, no, you’re not coming, then?” Henry said.

Sarah threw her hands in the air in defeat. She went over to her VHS collection and grabbed _The Rocketeer_ , pulling out a package of cigarettes. She tossed it to Jareth who immediately tossed the package aside with glee. 

“I don’t need those any more. I’m going to Dartmoor,” Jareth said. He walked towards his room. “You go on ahead, Mr. Knight. We will follow later.”

“Er, sorry, so you are coming?” Henry asked.

Jareth stuck his head back into the living room. “Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

Sarah went over to Henry and patted him on the shoulder. “He does this. I would try to catch the next train. We will be there soon.”

“Sarah! What does one wear when chasing a Hell Hound?” Jareth asked from his bedroom.

Sarah bit her lip before responding. “I don’t know Jareth. Something you would not mind getting dirty.”

“Sarah!”

“Yes, Jareth?”

“I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO WEAR!!!”

“YOU JUST RUINED AN ARMANI SUIT WITH PIG’S BLOOD THIS MORNING! BRING THAT!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Confession time: This is my least favorite of the Sherlock episodes and among my least favorite Sherlock Holmes’ stories. I actually am enjoying writing this, fortunately. There are some parts I am really looking forward to writing and we have some special visitors in this story. Some of them you have met, some of them you have not.
> 
> I did a little research on Dartmoor, Devon, etc. and found out there is a history of stories about pixies, etc. haunting the place. This is what inspired Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and many other writers (including Agatha Christie). There are three military bases in Dartmoor. Huzzah for research!
> 
> If you have not seen the movie _Clue_ , do. It has been and still is one of my favorite movies. (Why my parents let me watch it as a kid, I have no idea. It is not appropriate for children, at all.) And just as a reminder, _The Rocketeer_ stars Jennifer Connelly


	2. Chapter II: Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> The transcript is by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html).

As Jareth (with two bags) and Sarah (with one bag), were getting into the cab, Mrs. Hudson was having an argument with her boyfriend in Speedy’s. She threw something at the door.

“Looks like Mrs. Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster,” Sarah said.

“Wait until she finds out about the one in Islamabad,” Jareth said. They both snickered.

&%&%&%

Neither of them said anything until they had pulled out of Paddington Station. It was a mostly empty train, allowing Sarah and Jareth to sit at one of the tables. Jareth was by the window lost in thought until Sarah spoke.

“Why did you really take the case?” Sarah asked.

“What do you mean, precious?” Jareth asked.

“It’s not about a rabbit.”

“It’s always about the pesky wittle wabbit,” Jareth said, mimicking Elmer Fudd.

“Jareth…”

“Sarah…” He turned to face her and realized that she was not going to let off until he gave a good reason. 

“I need to know why I am taking three days off from work for this.”

“I need a case.”

“And I need a vacation, but this is not the way to do it.” Sarah rested her left hand next to Jareth’s right on the table. “What is so interesting about this case?”

“There are two reasons. The first is the use of the word ‘hound’ by Mr. Knight. Archaic. Why not a wolf? Why not a dog? Simple, someone planted that word in his mind. Something stuck with him from the attack.”

“So, not a dog?” Sarah asked.

Jareth shrugged. “There might have been, but if there was, it would have had a master.”

“Nothing magical?”

Jareth shrugged again. “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth, even if it is a Hell Hound.”

“So, the Devil is still in play?” Sarah took Jareth’s right hand and held it between her own. “What’s the second reason?”

“I… knew the name Dewer’s Hollow and what it meant. I know because I remember playing near there, just outside the forest. My sister would make daisy chains and force me to wear them.”

It was obvious that Sarah was forcing back a grin. 

“I looked quite fetching in them,” Jareth said, guessing what Sarah was thinking.

“I am sure you did,” Sarah said. Her smile gentled. “Why would you take the case then?”

“I was two years old the last time I was home… since either my sister or I went home.”

Sarah was obviously curious but careful in how she phrased the next question she would ask. “How long ago was that?”

“Three hundred and forty-six years,” Jareth said.

“You look good for being about three and half centuries old,” Sarah said.

Jareth smiled slightly. “This is the first time I can remember something new about my time before the Labyrinth. I want to know… why that name meant something.”

“So, not a case. A bit of genealogy?”

“No. I know who my parents were.”

Sarah was quiet for several moments. She stroked Jareth’s hand. “You would have been to the Labyrinth in 1666. Wasn’t that a plague year?”

Jareth nodded and kissed Sarah’s right hand and then her left. “Yes. They called 1664-1666 years of wonders. I don’t see how a plague, the burning of London, and almost being invaded by the Dutch years of wonders. Damn it all.”

Sarah smiled and there was a look in her eyes that Jareth did not recognize. “You were born. I am sure that counts as a wonder, don’t you think?”

Jareth kissed Sarah’s forehead with tenderness, wanting her to know how much the words meant to him. He rested his head against hers. “You must be tired, precious.”

“And curious. You won’t talk about how you came to the Labyrinth. This is the first time for you to mention it.”

Jareth sighed. “It’s not my story to tell. It’s my sister’s. She’s the heroine of the tale. I am just a MacGuffin.”

“You could never be that,” Sarah said, “However, I know that means you will not tell me anymore. Just remember, I am always willing to listen to a good story.” 

“Of course, precious.”

Jareth sat back in his seat and looked out the window. Sarah curled up next to him and slept for the rest of the time on the train.

&%&%&%

Jareth was fortunate that Sarah knew how to drive stick-shift otherwise they would have no way of reaching Grimpen Village and the moors. They drove out to the countryside so Jareth could get a sense of direction. He had London memorized and it was thus his element. No other place but the Labyrinth did he know better. This place was foreign to him, even if it was once his home. Jareth found a deserted area of moor and stood on top of one of the giant boulders that dotted the landscape while Sarah tried to make sense of the map on the ground, refusing to make the climb.

“There’s Baskerville,” Sarah said, pointing to the military base. She then pointed back to town. “That’s Grimpen Village.

“So that must be Dewer’s Hollow,” Jareth said, pointing to the wooded area.

“Do you remember it?”

“No. It’s been three hundred years. The landscape has changed and it smells… wrong.”

“Wrong?” Sarah asked.

“This whole world smells wrong. All the fumes and the people and… everything changes.”

“I thought you said once the wheel turns and nothing changes,” Sarah said.

“Don’t throw my words back at me,” Jareth said, smiling, “What’s that over there?”

“Minefield. Technically, Baskerville is an army base, so they have always been interested in keeping people out.”

Jareth spun around a few times, wishing he could take a short flight over the area. 

“LEGOLAS! What do your elf eyes see?” Sarah shouted.

“We are not going to Isengard, Sarah!”

“Crazy wizards destroying the natural order of things? Baskerville. Isengard. Same. Difference.” Sarah’s phone sent a text alert. “Jareth, Mycroft just texted me. What did you do? Never mind. You invited Sherlock. You could have told me. I would have brought more cookies.”

&%&%&%

The Cross Keys Inn (with Boutique Rooms and Vegetarian Cuisine) was to be found in Grimpen Village. There was a group of tourists outside the pub that was a part of the establishment for a “Hound” tour. The duo got out of the car and walked towards the entrance of the pub, where a young man who was apparently a tour guide was talking to a group of tourists. Jareth popped the collar of his coat. Sarah glanced over to him and gave “the look”.

“What? I’m cold,” Jareth said.

“Sure. Sure,” Sarah said.

&%&%&%

Jareth was checking into the inn while Sarah paced about the bar and outside, waiting for Sherlock and John to arrive.

“Eh, sorry we couldn’t do a double room for you two,” Gary, the owner said.

Jareth grinned. “That’s fine. Sarah could not help noticing on the map of the moor a skull and crossbones.”

“Oh that, aye,” Gary said.

“Pirates?” Jareth asked.

“Eh, no, no. The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it. It’s not what you think. It’s the Baskerville testing site. It’s been going for eighty-odd years. I’m not sure anyone really knows what’s there anymore,” Gary said.

“Explosives?” Jareth asked.

“Oh, not just explosives. Break into that place and – if you’re lucky – you just get blown up, so they say ... in case you’re planning on a nice wee stroll.”

“I’ll remember,” Jareth said. He covertly grabbed a receipt that said the vegetarian restaurant had bought meat.

“Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound! Did you see that show, that documentary?” Gary asked.

“A bit, yes,” Jareth said.

“Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell.”

“Have you ever seen the hound?”

“Me? No. Fletcher has. He runs the walks – the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know? He’s seen it.

“That is handy for trade.”

Gary turned to the Inn’s cook who had just walked into the bar. “I’m just saying we’ve been rushed off our feet, Billy.”

“Yeah. Lots of monster hunters. Doesn’t take much these days. One mention on Twitter and oomph. We’re out of WKD,” Billy said.

“All right,” Gary said.

“What with the monster and that ruddy prison, I don’t know how we sleep nights. Do you, Gary?” Billy said.

Gary put his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Like a baby.”

“That’s not true. He’s a snorer,” Billy said.

Gary tried to shush Billy.

“Is yours a snorer?” Billy asked.

“No. She does talk in her sleep sometimes and it is quite entertaining,” Jareth said, smirking. The person in question made a high pitched squee when she saw Sherlock Holmes and John Watson arrive.

&%&%&%

“It’s my second favorite consulting detective and my second favorite doctor!” Sarah said as she glomped Sherlock.

Sherlock had a look of horror cross his face as he tried to shrug off Sarah. “I understand why I am the second favorite, Sarah, since you want to snog Jareth, but who has beaten poor John in your affections?”

Sarah smacked Sherlock across the back of the head. “I don’t want to snog Jareth.” She stood back with her arms crossed.

“Sarah is infatuated with the Doctor of _Doctor Who_ ,” Jareth said, shaking Sherlock’s hand.

“Well, I forgive you there, Sarah,” John said, giving Sarah a hug.

“Nice to see you too, John,” Sarah said, “and it is not an infatuation. If I hear that TARDIS, I am ditching everything. Don’t worry. I’ll pick all of you up on the way out.”

John shook Jareth’s hand. “Nice to know,” John said.

“Hey, Sherlock, the fan girls ship you with… where did he run off to?” Sarah sighed.

Sherlock was chatting with the tour guide. The three walked over to the former consulting detective.

“Bet’s off, John, sorry,” Sherlock said.

“What?” John said.

“Bet?” Fletcher asked. “Wait, wait. What bet?”

“Oh, I bet John here fifty quid that you couldn’t prove you’d seen the hound,” Sherlock said.

“Yes, the gentlemen in the pub said you could,” Jareth said.

Fletcher smiled. “Well, you’re gonna lose your money, mate. Yeah. I’ve seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind – couldn’t make much out.”

“I see. No witnesses, I suppose,” Sherlock said.

“No, but…” Fletcher said.

“Never are,” Jareth said.

“Wait...” Fletcher said, pulling out his smart phone, showing an indistinct picture of an animal in the distance.

“Is that it? It’s not exactly proof, is it?” Sherlock said. “Sorry, John. I win.”

“Surely that can’t be all,” Sarah said in a low tone, leaning over Fletcher’s shoulder. _What!?! What is Sarah doing? My Sarah. My Sarah can’t play flirt with anyone else but me!_

“Wait, wait. That’s not all. People don’t like going up there, you know – to the Hollow. Gives them a... bad sort of feeling,” Fletcher said.

“Ooh! Is it haunted? Is that supposed to convince me?” Sherlock said.

“Nah, don’t be stupid, nothing like that, but I reckon there is something out there – something from Baskerville, escaped,” Fletcher said.

Sherlock unsuccessfully covered a chuckle. “A clone? A super-dog?”

“Maybe. God knows what they’ve been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn’t trust ’em as far as I could spit,” Fletcher said.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Sarah said.

Fletcher spoke in a hushed tone. “I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishin’ but he never showed up – well, not ’til late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. ‘I’ve seen things today, Fletch,’ he said, ‘that I never wanna see again. Terrible things.’ He’d been sent to some secret Army place – Porton Down, maybe, maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else. In the labs there – the really secret labs, he said he’d seen... terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs...” He pulled something out of his bag, “...dogs the size of horses.” It was a concrete cast of a dog’s paw print that was at least six inches long. 

“Er, we did say fifty?” John said.

&%&%&%

“I’m driving,” Sarah said as she tried to open the driver’s door of the Land Rover.

“What? No, I am,” Sherlock said, slamming the door shut.

“Listen, you’re supposed to be masquerading as Mycroft, right?” Sarah asked.

“How did you…”

“Why else would Jareth invite you and face both John and Mycroft’s wrath?” Sarah said.

“Fine, yes. I have one of Mycroft’s cards,” Sherlock said.

“Well then, you should show off your rank by being in the passenger seat. I am the grunt of the lot of us. I’m just a nurse. John was in the army and is a doctor. Jareth is probably above most people’s clearances. I should drive,” Sarah said.

“She isn’t that terrifying of a driver,” Jareth said as he and John hopped into the backseat. 

Sherlock moped but got into the car. 

As Sarah started the car, she said, “Sherlock, as I was trying to say before you ran off, there seem to be a lot of people who ship you and Jareth. Some of them have very interesting pictures.”

Jareth said in alarm, “Don’t look at it! It burns your very soul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just as a note before people exile me to MySpace, that was not a slam against Sherlock/Jareth shippers. I just think that’s how Jareth would react to seeing porn of him and Sherlock. 
> 
> It is interesting in the series that it is Sherlock driving and not John since Sherlock is masquerading as Mycroft and would be of a higher rank than John. Thus, Mycroft would not need to drive. There are several fan theories on this. My personal favorite is that John drives like he is in Afghanistan.


	3. Chapter III: Detectives, Assemble!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> The transcript is by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html).
> 
> In honor of _Labyrinth_ day, here is an extra chapter.

Sarah was fond of soldiers and anyone loyal enough to die for their country. She absolutely hated military research bases. She had been the “patient” at one too many and she would much rather not visit another one. However, she knew that Jareth and the Holmes brothers would raise enough Hell if anyone tried to mess with her. She would go into Baskerville, even if the thought of the place made her want to vomit.

Sarah stopped the car at the gate and rolled down the window for a security guard. “Pass, please,” the man said. Sherlock passed an ID over to the man. “Thank you.”

“How long do we have?” Sarah asked quietly.

“For what?” Sherlock asked.

“Until we get caught,” Sarah said.

“About twenty minutes,” Sherlock said.

“Jareth, do you think you can find out what you need in that time?” Sarah asked.

“With Sherlock, it is possible, depending how deep this base is,” Jareth said.

“Thank you very much, sir,” the Security Guard said as he handed back the ID.

“Thank you,” Sherlock said.

Sarah rolled up the window. “Mycroft’s name literally opens doors.”

Jareth said, “I’ve told you – he practically is the British government.”

&%&%&%

After parking the car, the four made their way to the entrance of the main Baskerville building. Sarah noted that even the scientists were escorted by armed soldiers. Jareth took Sarah’s arm and pulled her close to him. As they approached the entrance, a military jeep pulled up and a young corporal got out.

“What is it? Are we in trouble?” the corporal said.

Sherlock said, “‘Are we in trouble, sir.’”

“Yes, sir, sorry, sir,” the corporal said, still blocking their way.

“You were expecting us?” Sherlock asked.

“Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong, sir?”

“Well, I hope not, Corporal, I hope not,” Sherlock said.

“It’s just we don’t get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn’t happen,” Lyons said.

“Ever heard of a spot check?” John pulled out an ID. “Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.”

Even before he finished speaking, the corporal came to attention and saluted. “Sir. Who are your guests, captain?”

“Mr. King and Ms. Williams. They are to be treated as you would treat me,” Sherlock said.

“Not _the_ Sarah Williams? The one who killed twenty enemy soldiers to save an injured soldier in no-man’s land and avoided two mines?” the corporal said with awe.

Sarah ducked her head. “It was ten enemy soldiers and one mine and it was ten too many who died.”

“My friends say that you are a wonderful nurse. A Corporal Thomas Goulding and a Corporal James Weaver,” Lyons said.

“I am sure they were good patients though the names are not ringing any bells,” Sarah said.

“That’s all right. Thanks to you patching them up,” Lyons said. He turned his attention back to Sherlock. “Major Barrymore won’t be pleased, sir. He’ll want to see all of you.”

“I’m afraid we won’t have time for that,” John said, “We’ll need the full tour right away. Carry on. That’s an order, Corporal.”

“Yes, sir,” Corporal Lyons said. 

The corporal led them to the entrance. He swiped his pass and then Sherlock swiped his. As they walked in, Sarah overhead Sherlock and John talking.

“Haven’t pulled rank in ages,” John said.

“Enjoy it?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh yeah,” John said.

They went into an elevator and down a floor, though the lift went down five floors. They were lead to a brightly lit and white tiled laboratory. Sarah felt that she was contaminating the place by simply existing in the same building. There were large cages to the right of the elevator as they were lead down the hall. A monkey screamed and hurled itself against the bars as they passed by, startling Sherlock.

“How many animals do you keep down here?” Sherlock said.

“Lots, sir,” Lyons said.

“Any ever escape?” Sherlock asked.

“They’d have to know how to use that lift, sir. We’re not breeding them that clever,” Lyons said.

“Unless they have help,” Jareth muttered.

An old scientist with a mask in his hands came up to the group. “Ah, and you are?”

“Sorry, Doctor Frankland. I’m just showing these gentlemen and lady around,” Lyons said.

Dr. Frankland smiled “Ah, new faces, huh? Nice. Careful you don’t get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap!” He walked towards the elevator.

“How far down does that lift go?” John asked.

“Quite a way, sir,” Lyons said.

“And what’s down there?” Sarah asked.

“Well, we have to keep the bins somewhere, ma’am. This way please,” Lyons said.

_And the people._

They continued to talk as they walked along the lab.

“So what exactly is it that you do here?” John asked.

“I thought you’d know, sir, this being an inspection,” Lyons said.

“Well, I’m not an expert, am I?” John replied.

“Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir,” Lyons said.

“But mostly weaponry?” Sarah said.

“Of one sort or another, yes,” Lyons said. There was another card swipe.

“Biological, chemical ...?” John asked.

“One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared,” Lyons said. 

Sherlock checked his watch before entering the lab. A female scientist told her male colleague to do something with the monkey they were examining before turning her attention towards the group that entered.

“Doctor Stapleton,” Lyons said.

“Yes? Who’s this?” Doctor Stapleton asked.

“Priority Ultra, ma’am. Orders from on high. An inspection,” Lyons said.

“Really?” Dr. Stapleton said with wariness.

“We’re to be accorded every courtesy, Dr. Stapleton. What’s your role at Baskerville?” Sherlock asked.

Dr. Stapleton gave a small laugh.

“Accorded every courtesy, isn’t that the idea?” John said.

“I’m not free to say. Official secrets,” Dr. Stapleton said.

“Oh, you most certainly are free and I suggest you remain that way,” Sherlock said.

Sarah looked at Sherlock in surprise. _Sherlock can be scary. Good to know._

Dr. Stapleton chose her words after some thought. “I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up – genes, mostly; now and again actual fingers.”

Jareth pulled a small notebook out of his coat and wrote a word on it. “Stapleton. I knew I knew your name.”

“I doubt it,” Dr. Stapleton said.

“People say there’s no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must lead,” Jareth said. He held up his notebook and the word “BLUEBELL” was on it.

“Have you been talking to my daughter?” Dr. Stapleton asked.

Jareth put away the notebook. “Why did Bluebell have to die, Dr. Stapleton?”

“The rabbit?” Sarah said in shock.

“Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive,” Jareth said.

“The rabbit?” Sarah said again, still in shock.

“Clearly an inside job,” Jareth said.

“Oh, you reckon? Dr. Stapleton said.

“Why? Because it glowed in the dark,” Jareth said.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Who are you?” Dr. Stapleton said.

“Well, I think we’ve seen enough for now, Corporal. Thank you so much,” Sherlock said. He tapped his watch.

“That’s it?” Lyons asked.

“That’s it. It’s this way, isn’t it?” Sherlock said. As they made their way through the lab before the corporal caught up with them, Sherlock whispered to Jareth, “Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?”

“It’s wabbit season,” Jareth replied.

As they were about to enter the lift, Sherlock checked his phone. “Twenty-three minutes. Mycroft’s getting slow.”

As the elevator opened, Dr. Frankland stood there and smiled. “Hello... again.” 

Sarah felt Jareth move his arm to wrap it around her shoulder as they stood in the elevator. At the next floor up, a bearded man in a military uniform was waiting for them and he did not look happy.

“Er, um, Major...” the corporal said.

“This is bloody outrageous. Why wasn’t I told?” the major said.

John stepped out of the lift towards the major. “Major Barrymore, is it? Yes, well, good. Very good.” John offered his hand to shake. “We’re very impressed, aren’t we, Mr. Holmes?” Major Barrymore refused to shake the good doctor’s hand. 

“Deeply; hugely,” Sherlock said.

They continued trying to make their way out of Baskerville. The major followed. “The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense…”

“I’m so sorry, Major,” Sherlock said.

“Inspections!” Barrymore said.

“New policy. Can’t remain unmonitored forever. Goodness knows what you’d get up to,” Sherlock said.

The corporal quickly went to a side room before running back out. “Sir!” He slapped an alarm button on the wall. The alarms began to blare, red lights flashed, and the doors locked themselves. Jareth’s grip tightened on Sarah and she was fairly certain that Jareth was going to kill anyone who came near her.

“ID unauthorized, sir,” Lyons said.

“What?” Barrymore said.

“I’ve just had the call,” Lyons said.

“Is that right?” the major said, “Who are you?”

“Look, there’s obviously been some kind of mistake,” John said.

Major Barrymore took Sherlock’s ID card. “Clearly not Mycroft Holmes.”

John took out his notebook and began writing things down. “Computer error, Major. It’ll all have to go in the report.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Barrymore said.

Sarah could sense the magic building in Jareth already. _Deus ex machina. Deus ex machina, please. I really don’t want to see Jareth blast his way out of here._

“It’s all right, Major. I know exactly who these guests are,” Dr. Frankland said.

“You do?” Barrymore said.

“Yeah. I’m getting a little slow on faces but Mr. Holmes here isn’t someone I expected to show up in this place,” Dr. Frankland said, holding out his hand, “Good to see you again, Mycroft.”

Sarah tried not to let out a sigh of relief. Sherlock smiled falsely and shook Dr. Frankland’s hand.

“I had the honor of meeting Mr. Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in... Brussels, was it?” Dr. Frankland asked.

“Vienna,” Sherlock said.

“Vienna, that’s it. This is Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Major. There’s obviously been a mistake,” Dr. Frankland said.

Major Barrymore nodded. Lyons turned off the alarm and the doors unlocked.

“On your head be it, Doctor Frankland,” the major said.

“I’ll show them out, Corporal,” Dr. Frankland said.

“Very well, sir,” Lyons said.

&%&%&%

After they were outside for a few steps, Sherlock said, “Thank you.”

“This is about Henry Knight, isn’t it?” Dr. Frankland 

No one answered.

“I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn’t realize he was going to contact Jareth King!” Dr. Frankland said.

Sarah caught the sight of Jareth’s free hand making a fist. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I know who you really are. I’m never off your website. Thought you’d be wearing the hat, though,” Dr. Frankland said.

“That wasn’t my hat,” Jareth said.

Dr. Frankland said to Sarah, “I hardly recognize him without the hat!”

“I told you people like the hat, Sherlock,” Sarah said.

“It’s a stupid hat,” Sherlock muttered.

“I love the blog too, Ms. Williams, even if all that fantasy distracts from the real cases. You could make some good stories without all that magical stuff,” Dr. Frankland.

“Well, we don’t want to give criminals a real picture of Jareth’s process,” Sarah said.

“The, er, the Pink thing... and that one about the aluminum crutch!” Dr. Frankland said.

Jareth stopped and let Sarah go. He turned to face Dr. Frankland. “You know Henry Knight?”

“Well, I knew his Dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend,” Dr. Frankland said. They all noticed Major Barrymore watching them. “Listen, I can’t really talk now. “He took a card out of his pocket and handed it to Jareth. “Here’s my, cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call.”

“I never did ask, Doctor Frankland. What exactly is it that you do here?” Jareth asked.

“Oh, Mr. King, I would love to tell you – but then, of course, I’d have to kill you!” Dr. Frankland said cheerfully.

“That would be tremendously ambitious of you,” Jareth said with a straight face, “Tell me about Doctor Stapleton.”

“Never speak ill of a colleague,” Dr. Frankland said.

“Yet you would speak well of one, which you are clearly omitting to do,” Jareth said.

“I do seem to be, don’t I?” Dr. Frankland said.

Jareth raised the card Dr. Frankland gave him. “I will be in touch.”

“Any time,” Dr. Frankland said.

The four continued to the car. “So?” John asked.

“So?” Jareth mimicked.

“What was all that about the rabbit?” John asked.

At the same time, Sherlock and Jareth turned up the collars of their coats.

“I swear on all that is good and holy, they’re secretly twins,” John said, “You two being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collars up so you look cool.”

“I don’t do that,” the detectives said at the same time.

“Yeah you do,” Sarah said, getting into the car as quickly as possible. _I have to get out of here. I’m going to be sick._

&%&%&%

“So, the email from Kirsty on the missing luminous rabbit…”John said to Jareth as they drove back to Grimpen Village.

“Kirsty Stapleton, whose mother specializes in genetic manipulation,” Jareth said.

“She made her daughter’s rabbit glow in the dark,” Sarah said. _Maybe if I focus on the conversation, I will be able to calm down._

“Probably a fluorescent gene removed and spliced into the specimen. Simple enough these days. So we know that Doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals. The question is: has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?” Sherlock said. 

“To be fair, that is quite a wide field,” John said, “Maybe it is the Killer Rabbit.”

Sarah suddenly jerked off the road. “Excuse me, I’m going to be sick,” she said as she quickly abandoned the car.

Sarah was several yards from the car before she went to her knees and began to dry heave. Her memories of labs like Baskerville finally overwhelmed her and she felt like she was falling to pieces. Her whole body shook with long forgotten terrors.

“Precious,” Jareth said quietly as he knelt next to Sarah, making sure he did not touch her, “Precious, what’s wrong? You have been emoting and you have been scared but I don’t know why.”

Sarah clung to Jareth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jareth rocked her back and forth. “You haven’t hurt me or anyone else. What has upset you precious?”

Sarah took several deep breaths. She inhaled Jareth’s scent and focused on the feel of Jareth’s wool coat. I am Sarah Williams. _I am the Champion of the Labyrinth. I have survived wars. I have faced serial killers, smugglers, and the world’s only consulting criminal. Jareth will always make sure I am safe._

“Before I was sent to the Middle-East, my skills were noticed by the American government. They decided to… test my magic. It was agony. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I thought I would be all right. I was but when they were so flippant about the experiments… you know that they have people there too.”

“And others…” Jareth said quietly.

Sarah looked up at Jareth. “I’m sorry. I am being so selfish. I didn’t think about you being…”

“There are many reasons why the Courts did not kill me. One of those was that they thought the humans would do it for them,” Jareth said.

“The scars on your back…”

“Yes and I assume the same goes for you as well.”

Sarah kissed Jareth’s forehead. “I’m sorry. That is terrible. Here I am whining about minor experiments and…”

“Don’t you lie to me Sarah,” Jareth said sharply, “They did horrible things to you as well. Don’t you dare diminish your hurt.”

“They were trying to keep me alive. It doesn’t sound like they were trying with you.”

Jareth rested his head against Sarah’s and sighed. “I am glad you pulled over. I was going to be sick as well.”

Sarah stroked Jareth’s hair. “Mycroft got you out, didn’t he?”

“Now why would you think that, precious?”

“Because you could make Mycroft’s life far more miserable than you already do. You seem to at least give him some modicum of respect at times.”

Jareth kissed Sarah’s forehead. “Hmm… maybe I just have a long term evil plan in mind.” He stood up and pulled Sarah to her feet. “Do you want Sherlock to drive?”

“Yes. I am still a little too shaken to be on the road,” Sarah said.

“JUST SNOG ALREADY!” Sherlock shouted from the car.

“SHERLOCK! DO YOU WANT MY GOBLINS TO KILL ALL YOUR BEES!?!” Jareth shouted back.

“THEY STILL HAVEN’T SUCCEEDED IN THEIR FIRST ATTACK AND IT’S BEEN A YEAR!” Sherlock said.

“I think that’s Sherlock way of telling us to get back,” Sarah said.

“I suppose so,” Jareth said with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No, that’s Sherlock speaking for the shippers.
> 
> Side note: if someone is having an anxiety/panic attack, do not touch them unless given explicit permission. Give them space.


	4. Chapter IV: Into the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> The transcript is by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html).
> 
> The title refers to the musical of the same name.

Jareth remembered this home, though the house was very different. It had been remodeled in the hundred or so years since he had come to give the offer of dreams to the Wisher. As he moved about the Knight’s house with ease (the basic layout was the same), Sherlock was explaining his presence while John gaped at the fact that Henry Knight was rich. Sarah stayed close to Jareth. All five of them moved to the kitchen. Henry served everyone a good pot of tea and a decent pot of coffee (as each was want). Sherlock and Jareth took their tea with just sugar. Sarah and John took just milk. Henry took both milk and sugar.

“It’s-it’s a couple of words. It’s what I keep seeing. ‘Liberty’... and... ‘in’. It’s just that,” Henry said.

“Does that mean anything to you?” Sarah asked Jareth.

Jareth spoke quietly, “‘Liberty in death’ – isn’t that the expression? The only true freedom.”

John and Sherlock nodded in agreement. Jareth sensed a small amount of panic cross Sarah before she grabbed his hand. Her emotions evened out soon afterwards. _She generally isn’t this emotional. Baskerville must have truly shaken her._

“What now, then?” Henry asked.

“Jareth has some sort of plan,” Sarah said.

“Yes,” Jareth said, “We take you back out onto the moor...”

Henry said, “Okay...”

“…and see if anything attacks you,” Jareth said.

“What?” Sarah and John said at the same time.

“That should bring things to a head,” Sherlock said.

“At night? You want me to go out there at night?” Henry said.

“That’s your plan?” Sarah said.

“Have any better ideas?” Jareth said.

“That’s not a plan. Use that brilliant brain of your to actually think up a plan,” Sarah said.

“If there is a monster out there, Sarah, there is only one thing to do: find out where it lives,” Jareth said. He gave a goblin grin before taking another sip of tea.

&%&%&%

It was dusk when the five of them made out to the moors. Everyone was using flashlights over the rocky terrain. It was spooky. It was creepy. It was…

“Scooby, Scooby Doo, where are you?/We’ve got some work to do now,” Sarah sang.

“Are you bloody serious?” John said.

“What? Is Jareth the only one who can burst into song?” Sarah asked, “Honestly, we’re going into the woods to look for a big scary monster. There are five of us…”

“Oh, do shut up, Sarah, and focus on finding this blasted Hell Hound,” Sherlock said.

Everyone was quiet until Jareth started to sing. “Whenever I feel afraid/I hold my head erect/And whistle a happy tune/So no one will suspect/I'm afraid.”

John tackled Jareth. “That’s it. No more musicals! I will break the next person who bursts into song!”

Henry seemed more at ease and Sherlock was trying to cover a smile. Sarah laughed so hard she fell to her knees. “Oh good grief. This is magnificent. This is too magnificent for my poor soul. I can’t.”

There was a low moan from the forest and Jareth saw a familiar shape moving. “Sarah, I think one of your friends is worried about you.”

Sarah stood up and saw the figure moving as well. “Did you call Ludo?” Sarah asked.

“I requested information on the area from the Underground, but no. Ludo has come of his own accord,” Jareth said.

Sarah smiled and ran towards the retreating figure. “I’ll be right back!” Sarah said.

“John, follow her,” Jareth said.

John said, “What is…”

“A friend of Sarah’s and one of the kindest creatures you will meet,” Jareth said, “We can take care of ourselves, but Ludo may not realize some of the dangers here.”

“Fine, but if Sherlock gets hurt…”

“I will face a very painful death. Yes, I know,” Jareth said, “Shoo, Dr. Watson.”

John nodded to Sherlock before running after Sarah. Jareth continued trudging towards Dewer’s Hollow. After a few minutes, Jareth said to Henry, “I met a friend of yours, a Doctor Frankland.”

“Oh, right. Bob, yeah,” Henry said.

“He seems pretty concerned about you,” Jareth said.

“He’s a worrier, bless him. He’s been very kind to me since I came back,” Henry said.

“He knew your father,” Jareth said.

“Yeah,” Henry said.

Sherlock decided to join the conversation. “But he works at Baskerville. Didn’t your Dad have a problem with that?”

“Well, mates are mates, aren’t they? I mean, look at the lot of you,” Henry said.

“What about us?” Sherlock and Jareth said at the same time.

“Well, I mean, Sarah and John seem pretty straightforward blokes, and you two...” Henry stopped and decided to change the focus of the conversation, “They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad.”

Henry turned left and then stopped. He pointed to a sort of pit in the middle of the woods. “Dewer’s Hollow.”

Jareth felt like the whole world was off balanced as the three of them made their way down the steep, slippery ground into the hollow. The whole place reeked of magic and mostly dead magic at that. Not just familiar goblin magic though. That Jareth would not have minded. There were boggarts and ghouls and dozens of other powerful magics swirling in that place and some magics that Jareth had forgotten about.

As the three men made their way down, Sherlock shined his flashlight around at the ground. There were giant paw prints everywhere. Jareth had been unconcerned with the nightly noises ( _nothing out of the ordinary_ ) but then a low howl sounded near them. 

As Jareth turned, he saw it. The Hound. It was just as he imagined it. Grotesque. Huge. Something straight out of Hell.

_A Hell Hound. It can’t be real. It can’t be._

And just as quickly as it came, the Hound ran away. Henry was blabbering. Sherlock was breathing abnormally. Jareth felt like his heart was beating out of his chest.

_Sarah. What if it goes after her?_

Jareth quickly ran up the hill and back towards where Sarah had been. Sherlock and Henry lagged behind. Henry was still blabbering about the hound. 

“Jareth!” Sarah shouted.

Jareth moved even faster and ran bodily into Sarah, almost knocking her off her feet. “Precious, precious are you all right?” Jareth said, holding her as close as he could.

“Jareth, I’m fine. What’s wrong? Where are Sherlock and Henry?” Sarah asked. Ludo and John made their way over to Sarah and Jareth.

“Are you hurt?” Jareth asked. He inhaled Sarah’s scent.

“No. What’s wrong?” Sarah said. She tried to pull away but Jareth held her tighter until she yelped from pain. 

“Bloody hell, Jareth,” John said.

“JARETH!” Sherlock shouted.

“Ludo, you need to leave before Henry sees you,” Sarah said, “I’ll make sure to have Mrs. Hudson invite you over for tea soon, all right?”

“Bye, Sawah,” Ludo said, moving deeper into the forest.

“You are going back to the inn and staying there until this case is over,” Jareth said.

“What? No way! You are not locking me in my room Jareth like some damsel in distress! We have discussed this on a…” Sarah shrieked as Jareth threw her over his shoulder.

“Come along gentlemen. Sarah was right. This was not a plan,” Jareth said.

“JARETH! I WILL THROW UP ON YOU!”

&%&%&%

Sarah did not throw up on Jareth. She did refuse to speak to him or anyone else in the car as she drove everyone back to their respective lodgings (since she was the only one capable of driving the car). Henry had to be sedated by John when they got to Henry’s home.

“He says that you all saw the hound,” John said as he came back into the car.

“Let me guess, it was terrifying,” Sarah said dryly.

“Shut up, Sarah,” Sherlock said.

“No, you arrogant… snobbish… unfeeling…. thing,” Sarah said, “Unless you tell us what is the matter, we can’t help you two. Locking us away either figuratively or literally will get you nowhere.”

“Of course it will,” Sherlock said, “It will allow us not to listen to an idiot who wished away her brother over a teddy bear.”

Sarah bit her lip and gripped the steering wheel. She breathed heavily through her nose for several moments before driving quickly away from Henry Knight’s house.

&%&%&%

Jareth dragged Sarah upstairs and locked the door behind them. After checking to make sure no one else was there, Jareth paced the room. Sarah sat on her bed.

“You’re all acting insane,” Sarah said, “Sherlock thinks that there is some sort of mutant super-dog roaming the moors and there can’t be because I would have seen something like that for sale back during my time served in the war. Henry is just grateful he isn’t crazy. It can’t be just a Hulked out dog though. That wouldn’t scare you.” 

“I always heard tales growing up,” Jareth said, “You grew up with stories about goblins coming to take you away. I grew up with stories of Hell Hounds coming to devour me. I saw one tonight. It was just how it had been described to me, how I imagined it.”

“A Hell Hound?” Sarah asked.

“A Hell Hound. It’s just as it sounds. It is a dog from Hell. It comes to devour the souls of the wicked and then throw them into the pit of eternal fire, torture, and damnation. They could do it anytime a person committed a bad act. I thought… maybe everything had caught up with me.”

Jareth saw Sarah trying not to smile. “It isn’t funny Sarah!”

“I just… didn’t realize that the boogey-men were scared of monsters under their bed.”

Jareth glared.

Sarah spoke in a tone that generally calmed Jareth but now irritated him. “Are you sure it was a Hell Hound? I mean, there are footprints and it looks like a very, very large dog could have done it. Just an ordinary giant dog.”

“You are not helping me, Sarah. I know what I saw,” Jareth said.

“Not everything is as it seems,” Sarah said.

“I BLOODY WELL KNOW THAT!”

Sarah did not move or show any signs of fear at Jareth’s sudden outburst. “You told me to rule out the impossible. Is a giant dog impossible if your eyes were deceiving you?” Sarah asked.

“Then we have nothing to go on.”

“I am trying to help you, Jareth.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t your friend help you?”

“I don’t have friends,” Jareth said, pausing in his steps for a moment before continuing pacing.

“Wonder why?” Sarah said as she flopped back onto the bed.

Jareth sat on the bed next to Sarah for a moment before swiftly pinning her to the bed. “Is that what you think I am to you? A friend?”

Sarah did not flinch as Jareth leaned over. They were so close they essentially breathed the same air. “Jareth, get off me.”

“Why?”

“Because I asked.”

Jareth moved and his lips hovered over where he had given Sarah a hickey several months before. “You didn’t seem to mind a few months ago.”

“I didn’t understand what you were doing until you bit me.”

“It is a bit more complicated than that and you know it.” Jareth pressed a soft kiss on Sarah’s neck.

For the first time, Sarah flinched. She said quietly, “I should have just gone home. I shouldn’t have listened to Lestrade.”

“What does Lestrade have to do with this?” Jareth sat up but kept Sarah’s wrists pinned.

“After you ran off with the cabbie and the drugs bust was over, Lestrade said something that made me reconsider my view on you.”

“Well? What was it?”

“‘Jareth is a great man and I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one.’” Jareth could see tears forming in Sarah’s eyes but she was blinking them back. “I really believed that. I saw what you could do. I saw your relationship with Mrs. Hudson. I saw a good man forming. I knew that I could help you. That’s why I have fought for you for over a year, Jareth. That’s why I have stayed through serial killers, bombings, obsessive exes, mopey days, manic days, and mundane days. I know you are great, Jareth. I believed you could be good. Right now, I don’t believe it. You are trying to make me fear you, love you, and do what you say, but I won’t. You have no power over me. You gave that to me as a gift and I accepted it. Please, Jareth, let me go.”

The two took a few shallow breaths before Jareth released Sarah’s wrists and he turned away from her. Sarah sat up and rested her head against Jareth’s back. 

“Don’t do that again, no matter how scared you are that I will leave,” Sarah said quietly.

“I wasn’t worried that…”

“Yes, you were. Either by my own will or by someone else’s. You are always scared of that.”

Jareth slumped. “I’m sorry that I frightened you, precious.”

Sarah hugged Jareth from where she sat. “You are forgiven. What do you need me to do?”

“Stay out of trouble,” Jareth said, “I need to think.”

“I don’t think you should be alone.”

Jareth was quiet for a moment before saying, “I recognized a magic, but I do not know where it was from. It surrounded the hound.”

“Then it couldn’t be a Hell Hound.”

“No. It couldn’t.”

Jareth could almost feel Sarah’s smile. “That still leaves a lot of possibilities, Jareth.”

“But I can safely say that it was not a rabbit.” The thought of what else it could be, however, did make Jareth fearful.

&%&%&%

Jareth made his way out of the village and out onto the moors for half an hour before coming to a stop. He bent over double, gasping for air from partially running for that half-hour. He was panicking. He knew that he had felt this particular kind of panic before, but he could not place where.

After a few minutes of trying desperately to breathe, Jareth’s heart slowed down and he was able to stand up. He looked up at the sky and could see the stars through the occasional breaks in the clouds. “If I could still fly, I probably wouldn’t be so scared,” he said to himself.

“Running from your problems just makes them come after you harder, Jay,” a soft female voice said.

Jareth spun around. “How? How are you here?”

“Bad behavior with the Seelie King,” the slight blonde woman said, grinning. She stepped towards Jareth, her red and gold dress a bright contrast to the dark moors. “Fancy seeing you here so near Baskerville. I hear that you wandered into Dewer’s Hollow. Didn’t I warn you about that place?”

“I had a case,” Jareth said.

The woman put her hands on her hips. “Well, aren’t you going to hug me or have you gotten to be too grown-up to get a hug from your big sister?”

Jareth quickly hugged his sister. “I didn’t think they would let you out, Joanna.”

“Like I said, bad behavior with the Seelie King,” Joanna said, patting her little brother’s head (though she was a good half a foot shorter than him).

“Yuck,” Jareth said.

“Hey, I’ve been married for three centuries. I can say that about my husband,” Joanna said. She stepped back and tilted her head. “What’s wrong, Jareth? You have come undone by a stray dog and some dark woods.”

“There is something… off about this case. I have had the feeling of this magic before, but I can’t remember where,” Jareth said.

“Have you talked about it with the girl?” Joanna asked.

“Some. I don’t want her to think that I am afraid,” Jareth said.

“Jay, if she can’t handle you being scared, she doesn’t deserve you. Actually, she doesn’t deserve you at all.”

“Jo, we’ve discussed this…”

Joanna held up her hand. “I know. I know. I have to be nice to her, even if she did break my baby brother’s heart.”

“She didn’t break it. She didn’t understand what…”

“And whose fault is that? Yours, you impatient idiot. Now, of course, as a completely bias witness, I think you are one of the best men ever to live and she should have realized that, even if you did decide to play the villain that day of all days.”

Jareth hugged his sister again. “Please be nice to Sarah. I love her more than anything.”

“I know. You’ve shown that repeatedly.” Jareth felt a shift of place and he found himself outside of the inn. “Come on. I want to meet this girl. My children keep saying how wonderfully goblin like she is.”

Jareth followed as meekly as he was capable of behind his sister. As he entered, Jareth saw his brother-in-law at the bar talking to Sarah (who looked ill at ease and was ready to bolt at the first opportunity). Sherlock and John were drinking whiskey by the fire. While Jareth remained by the door to collect his thoughts and figure out the best option to introduce his sister to Sarah, Joanna calmly walked up to Sarah and tapped on Sarah’s shoulder. As Sarah turned around, Joanna said something and then punched Sarah hard enough to cause Sarah to fall to the ground.

_Well, that was not an expected option._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If one does not have a sibling, one does not realize how much love/hate goes on in those relationships. Yes, I may want to kill my sister some days, but if you make her cry, I will make you wish you were never even a dividing cell.
> 
> The Hell Hound story is influenced by the TV show _Supernatural_. The song Jareth sang is from _The King and I_ titled “I Whistle a Happy Tune”.
> 
> Brace yourselves, the next chapter is the longest chapter I have ever written for this series. A messenger bag full of glitter to anyone who can guess the true identity of Jareth’s brother-in-law before I post the next chapter. (I have scattered some hints in “Bosom Companions? Friends?”.)


	5. Chapter V: Insanity is Relative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> The transcript is by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html).

Sarah looked at herself in the mirror in the bathroom. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was tangled. She began brushing out her hair, trying to give herself something to do.

_Maybe I should contact Rossetti. She might know what to do with Jareth. Maybe she could give some advice on the magic. No. That won’t work. She probably knows at most the same as Jareth does and Jareth will be hurt that I don’t think he can do it. He is already asking Sherlock to help with the case. Maybe I should call up St. Bart’s and see if anyone would be willing to research…_

Taking a washcloth she had run under cold water, Sarah went back to the room and lay on her bed. She placed the washcloth over her eyes and her thoughts switched topics.

_I should have told him. No. I shouldn’t. He was in no state to hear it. I was in no state to say it. It was the wrong time. I’ve been telling myself that since New Year’s. That doesn’t mean anything. Liar. Liar. Pants on fire._

Sarah tossed the washcloth across the room and went down to the restaurant/lounge to see if Jareth had come back. Sherlock was by the fire in the lounge, drinking a whiskey. “Where’s John?” Sarah asked.

“He went for a walk just like your boyfriend did,” Sherlock said.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Did you and John have a fight?”

“Somewhat. I shouted and he sat there until he had enough and left,” Sherlock said, “Obviously you and Jareth had a row. Was it about couples’ things?”

“You know, for someone who is asexual, you are rather fixated on whether or not Jareth and I have a sexual relationship.”

Sherlock shrugged and took a sip from his drink. “Sex and money make the world bother with living. I cannot escape the discussion of it. Speaking of which, can you move? A couple has just walked in and I want to see what I can deduce from them.”

Sarah moved and sat in the armchair next to Sherlock. _At least he is no longer panicking._

“Tell me what you see,” Sarah said, guessing that showing off might help Sherlock continue recovering from his fright.

“They’re rich. From him, not her. How else could someone that unattractive get such a beautiful, young woman to hang all over him? Not to mention that there is at least a ten year age difference between them. The bags are handmade, but not designer. Old money then. They don’t need to show off they can afford the name brands, but that doesn’t mean they do not like quality. The suit is well tailored though a bit old fashioned. Conservative. The dress has real gold thread. Once again, quality though that is the flashiest thing the two of them have and… something is off.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.

“I can’t read anything else.”

“So?”

“I can’t read anything else because at least one of them is putting up a Glamour,” Sherlock said quietly, “They are magic users. Why would a magic user stay at a hotel?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that they just want a little vacation in the Above? You are already scared from what you saw in the woods. Maybe you are just being extra paranoid.”

“It’s not paranoia if they are out to get you.”

The couple went up the stairs with the man carrying the two suitcases while the woman carried a hatbox and her purse. “Quick, Sarah, talk to the owner. Ask about the couple.”

“Sherlock we won’t learn anything.”

“Pretend it is someone you know. What if someone is coming after Jareth for poking his goblin nose in places it shouldn’t be?”

Sarah sighed in agreement. She went over to the front desk. “Gary, who was that couple who just came in? I thought the woman looked just like my old friend Amy. She’s from the North of England in Sunderland, near Newcastle.”

“Ah no, the gentleman called her Jo and she sounded like she was from these parts, actually,” Gary said.

“Oh, drat. Sorry to be such a bother, Gary. I thought it really was my friend Amy. She has the same blonde hair and everything,” Sarah said, “Are you still serving food?”

“Anything on the menu for you sweetheart,” Gary said.

“Aw, you’re the sweetheart Gary. Mozzarella sticks with extra marinara?”

“Coming right up, Sarah,” Gary said before going into the kitchen to deliver the order.

“Sarah is it?” a deep voice said from behind Sarah.

Sarah jumped and turned around to face the man who had just gone up the stairs not more than a few moments ago. The man said, “I overheard you asking about my wife.”

“Oh, sorry. I thought it was my friend, Amy,” Sarah said, “An honest mistake.”

“So it would seem,” the man said. He seemed to think for a moment before continuing. “Have you been to Sunderland, Sarah?”

“No, but I have thought about going up to see the North Sea and going over to Durham Cathedral for a day trip or something,” Sarah said.

“If you do go, there is a little garden before you go to the sea in Sunderland that leads to an archway that opens right up to the beach. You turn right and there is an arcade that has fantastic chips.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sarah said.

Gary had returned and the rich man ordered a beer that Sarah did not recognize. “What is it?” she asked.

“It is German and from the Black Forest region. I do not know the right translation,” the man said, taking a seat while waiting for his beer to be served, “Would you like a pint?”

“Um, no thanks,” Sarah said.

The man laughed. “I am not flirting with you, Sarah. Where I come from, that is custom when making a friend.”

Sarah sat down next to the man. “I wasn’t thinking that. You don’t have that particular smirk. No. I just don’t drink much anymore.”

“May I dare ask why or is it too personal?” the man asked, “Thank you, Gary.” He gave a tip before taking a sip of his beer.

“Uh, no. I have never really liked it and one of my friends can’t drink so I don’t drink either so he doesn’t have to smell it,” Sarah said. She did take a glass of water from Gary.

“It sounds like you care for this friend,” the man said.

“I do. He’s often a good man,” Sarah said.

“Often, but not always.”

Sarah shrugged. “I am not always a good person either.”

“Hmmm… I am sure Jareth doesn’t see you that way.”

“Jareth thinks… I didn’t say his name.”

“I know you have not. I just wished to let you on that I know that you are trying to get information out of me, Ms. Williams.”

“What do you want with Jareth?” Sarah asked.

“I am merely wondering what he is up to these days,” the man said, “Do not even think of trying to escape. I am the most powerful creature you have ever met. I can even make your Goblin King Rossetti kneel because of what power I have. Oh, look, your mozzarella sticks are coming out. They look delicious.” Gary served the food and went back to the kitchen. “Now, Sarah, how is our former Goblin King doing these days?”

“Murderous,” Sarah said.

“That is not out of character for him,” the man said. 

“He will not have a problem killing you if you hurt his friends,” Sarah said. She wondered if there was any cold iron nearby, but her brain was blanking and only coming up with the fire poker which was half way across the room.

“I know that. Do stop trying to think of how you could murder me. Have your little goblin followers shown up? No. They obviously do not think that you are in danger. If you do come to harm, they will show up and rip me to shreds. Trust me. I have seen them do it.”

Sarah gulped. “Are you a telepath?”

“Me? Nah. I’m just a worm.” The man covered his mouth for a moment before speaking again. (Sarah suspected he was laughing at her.) “How about we make a deal? If you can figure out my name, I will let you go run off and get Jareth. Every time you get an answer wrong, I get to ask you a question and you must answer truthfully.”

“No.”

“Ms. Williams, I already have cast the truth spell and it should take effect about… now. What color dress was my wife wearing? Lie. Just try.”

“B… red with gold thread.” Sarah covered her mouth in shock.

“Like I said, I am the most powerful creature you have ever met. All other general threats apply and you must answer my questions. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Sarah said quietly.

“Good. Guess away, Ms. Williams.”

“The people didn’t shout, but I will guess John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.”

“Wrong. May I have your mozzarella sticks?”

“Yes. I am too scared to eat them.”

“Another guess, Ms. Williams. Mhmmm… these are good.”

“John Smith.”

“No. Why did you decide to stay with Jareth in 221b?”

“I believed he could be a good man if I stayed. I wanted to stay in London. I wanted to stay with him. Hope against hope, is your name the Doctor?”

“Neither my name nor my occupation. My children quite enjoy that show as do I. Why are you in Grimpen?”

“We have a case dealing with some sort of hound that is haunting the moors. Jareth wanted to see if he could remember more about his family.”

“Everything magical haunts those moors at some point. It is sort of our bed and breakfast community in England. Add in Baskerville and anything could be out there.”

John came up to the bar. “How are you Sarah?”

Sarah wanted to speak but suddenly felt her mouth stick together. “She seems in top shape,” the man said. 

“Two whiskeys,” John said to Gary, “Jareth still out on the moors?”

“Yes,” Sarah said, suddenly regaining her voice.

“He better get back in. It is getting cold out there,” John said. He took the whiskeys and sat over next to Sherlock.

“I could not just let you tell the good doctor about our game, now could I, Sarah?”

“Are you the High King Oberon?”

The man stuck out his tongue. “Ugh. How could you compare me to that twit?”

“Very easily.”

The man laughed and Sarah could have sworn the Glamour broke for a moment and that the man had goblin teeth.

“Another name, Ms. Williams.”

“After this one, I’ll start guessing for real. Rumpelstiltskin.”

This time, Sarah did see the Goblin teeth. “Finally, Ms. Williams. With your time in the Labyrinth, I thought you would have tried out the fairytale names first.”

“I figured with the Goblin King, there was no real need for other child snatchers. Jareth certainly never mentioned you.”

“He would not. It is not my real name, anyway, but I will let it pass after one more question and you can go get Jareth. Are you in love with him?”

“What?” Sarah said.

“It is a simple question. Jareth has been in love with you since you were fourteen. Do you reciprocate that love?”

Sarah felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around to face the blonde wife of Rumpelstiltskin. “This is for breaking my brother’s heart.” Sarah was punched in the jaw. She fell, hit the floor, and lost consciousness.

&%&%&%

Sarah awoke without any pain and was lying on something incredibly soft. She could hear the two detectives and John talking near her.

“Bloody hell, you could have mentioned it,” John said. 

“It seemed rather obvious,” Sherlock said.

“I don’t have a brother who mucks about with Fae royalty, Sherlock,” John said.

“I do not advertise such. I am sorry if it seemed to be a deception,” Jareth said.

“Does Sarah know?” John asked.

“Some,” Jareth said.

Sarah opened her eyes and found herself in a pillow pit. She sat up and saw that she was in what looked like a very nice (though slightly eccentric) living room.

“Your brother-in-law is Rumpelstiltskin!” Sarah said.

“Yes. Sorry. I didn’t think it was that important,” Jareth said.

“And your sister punched me!” Sarah said.

“Yes. She said she was going to be on her best behavior,” Jareth said. He came over and sat by Sarah, taking her hand. “Any permanent damage?”

“No. How is that? I definitely heard something crack,” Sarah said.

“That would be me,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he entered the room. He still wore the expensive suit, but his walk was different. More relaxed and it was much more obvious that he was part goblin. “How are you Ms. Williams?”

“Perfectly well it would appear,” Sarah said.

“Rumpelstiltskin is a skilled healer,” Jareth said.

Rumpelstiltskin sat at the edge of the pillow pit and smirked. “Being King of the Seelie Court has its benefits.”

Sherlock jumped into the pillow pit. “So, why did you decide to interrogate Sarah, your majesty?”

“For the same reason that Mycroft interrogated John and I interrogated you, we worry about our families,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “Besides, it’s not often that there is a Champion of the Labyrinth.”

Sarah looked around with some concern. “Where is your wife?”

“Joanna is making cookies as an apology,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

Sarah pulled up her legs and rested her head on her knees. “So, you are Christiana and Dante’s father?”

“Yes. Adorable, are they not? Fortunately, they did not inherit too much of my looks,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“I do not think anyone has ever described goblins as adorable,” Sherlock said.

“We are an odd family,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“I did not appreciate being scared like that,” Sarah said.

Rumpelstiltskin smirked again. “It is in my nature to pull little tricks on people.”

Jareth said, “Sarah is not people.”

“Like you are one to talk, Jareth,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “You threw a snake at her!”

“You dropped Joanna down a pit twice!”

“Sarah was in an oubliette. I think we are even on that score. I did not, however, set the cleaners on Joanna.”

“She insulted the Labyrinth!”

“You were not just talking about the Labyrinth!”

“Oh good grief, behave you two. Honestly, you would not realize from their behavior that these are two grown goblins,” Joanna said, bringing in two plates of cookies, “These were both taken from the above so we do not have to worry about Fae food issues. One is a mix of chocolate chip cookies and white chocolate chip cookies. The other is ginger snap cookies.”

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” Sherlock said, taking a chocolate chip cookie.

“A pleasure to meet you too, Sherlock,” Joanna said, “Though of course, a well-mannered brother would properly introduce his friends to his sister.”

Jareth rolled his eyes but stood up. “Joanna, this is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes, this is Joanna, my older sister. This is Doctor John Watson. Doctor John Watson, this is Joanna, High Queen of the Seelie Court.”

“A pleasure,” Joanna said, putting down the plates.

Jareth put on more formal airs with the next introduction. “Your majesty, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. Gentleman, Rumpelstiltskin, High King of the Seelie Court and my brother-in-law.”

“Sirs,” Rumpelstiltskin said, also taking a chocolate chip cookie.

Jareth smiled as he made the next introduction. “This, your majesties, is Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth and my greatest ally.”

Sarah smiled at the last title. She stood up and curtsied. “Your majesties.”

“It is wonderful to finally meet you, Sarah. Jareth has always (and I mean always) spoken well of you,” Rumpelstiltskin said. He gently pushed his wife towards Sarah.

Joanna looked back at her husband before looking Sarah in the eye. “I am sorry that I introduced myself by punching you, breaking your jaw, and knocking you unconscious. It was not one of my finer moments.”

“That would be blowing up the High Court,” Dante said as he dove into the pillow pit. He quickly snatched a ginger snap.

“Dante, what have I told you about sneaking up on people?” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“That would be covering several hundred lessons on espionage, Father,” Dante said.

Sherlock snickered. “John, this is the Crowned Prince of the Seelie Court and Jareth’s nephew.”

“Nice to meet you officially, Dr. Watson,” Dante said.

“I forgive you Joanna, as one older sister to another,” Sarah said, “What does Dante mean you blew up the High Court?”

Joanna shrugged and sat next to her husband. “Just the physical building. I made sure everyone got out before I destroyed it. That’s why I have been locked up for the past hundred or so years. I was released early for bad behavior.”

Rumpelstiltskin smirked while Jareth and Dante made gagging noises. “There are people here Mum!” Dante said.

“Yes, Mum, behave,” Christiana said. She walked into the pillow pit and nicked one cookie of each type. Suddenly, a dozen goblins swooped in and took a cookie each before running off to the rest of the room to play.

“You have two new additions, I see,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“Yes, Hop and Scotch. They came in around the same time and they are inseparable,” Christiana said. Sarah and Jareth sat down next to each other.

“I hope they are plenty of trouble,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“Of course,” Christiana said with a goblin grin.

“Why would you blow up the High Court?” Sarah asked.

“It was that or stab someone,” Joanna said.

“Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure meeting you, but I fear your necessity to remain in the Underground is no longer an excuse. Mr. Holmes will be back to his normal self by tomorrow morning,” Rumpelstiltskin said. With a wave of his hand, John and Sherlock disappeared.

Sarah gaped. “You can’t just…”

“I can do as I please, Ms. Williams. Now, Jareth, will you please let me deal with that magic that is plaguing your mind?” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“I can solve this on my own,” Jareth said.

“You will not be able to solve it if you are not able to shake this out of your system,” Joanna said.

“What did Uncle Jareth do now?” Dante and Christiana said at the same time.

“Dewer’s Hollow,” Joanna said.

“That bed and breakfast area?” Dante said.

“Yes,” Jareth said.

“Was a piece of toast murdered or something?” Christiana asked.

“Hell Hound on the loose,” Jareth said.

Rumpelstiltskin began to laugh. The goblins looked around confused for a moment and started laughing too.

“Jareth, those are made up. They do not exist,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“What?” Jareth said.

 _He looks like he was just told Santa wasn’t real… if Santa was evil…_ Sarah thought.

“It was the story I was told growing up to be good. I always found them to be amusing like those… what are they called Christiana?”

“B-horror movies,” Christiana said.

“Ah, yes, B-horror movies. Supposedly scary but unintentionally funny,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “I did not realize that you took them seriously as an adult.”

“Then what did I see?” Jareth hissed.

“Let me remove that spell on you and I will be able to tell you,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“No. I do not ne… want your assistance,” Jareth said.

“Which is why you keep tapping your foot,” Joanna said. She smiled gently. “Jareth, there is nothing wrong with accepting his help.”

“I have not asked for assistance these past thirteen years, I will not start now,” Jareth said.

Joanna still smiled but her voice was very cold. “My husband, would you be so kind as to show Lady Sarah your study? I am sure you two will have much to talk about over Doctor What.”

“Doctor Who, love,” the Seelie High King said, with a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Of course, my king,” Joanna said. Sarah then saw the glint of mischief that she often saw in Jareth’s eyes when he was purposefully being annoying. _So, not a Goblin thing._

Sarah felt a gentle push from Jareth. “You will be fine, precious. He may be a nuisance and a busy-body, but my kinsman will not harm you.”

Rumpelstiltskin offered his arm to Sarah and walked with her out of the room to a beautiful hallway that reminded Sarah of Hampton Court Palace. “Jareth’s strength is his tenacity and it is also his weakness,” Rumpelstiltskin said as the doors to the living area closed.

“I will have to agree with you on that,” Sarah said before blurting out, “Why didn’t you care that Jareth was an addict?”

“The natural consequences of such a lifestyle (such as almost losing his friend), were such that I did not need to lecture him. Besides, as Jareth said, _he_ did not ask for assistance. That does not mean that we did not offer what little we could under the circumstances,” Rumpelstiltskin said. 

A door opened to Sarah’s left, revealing a study of dark woods and red and gold fabrics. There were French doors that led to a balcony. Sarah ignored the room overflowing with books and went straight to the balcony, breathing in the cool Underground air, but staying some distance from the edge. There were stars out, but they were obviously not the same stars Sarah saw in the Above. The balcony overlooked a large garden with, of course, a maze.

“The garden is more of a traditional beauty, but nothing to compare to the Goblin Kingdom,” Rumpelstiltskin said. He leaned on the balcony railing.

“It’s colder here than in the Labyrinth,” Sarah said.

“That it is. There are different climates here, just as in the Above,” Rumpelstiltskin said. 

Sarah leaned back against the wall, away from the balcony railing. “You are High King of the Seelie Court. Why couldn’t you help Jareth?”

“I did. Jareth, Toby, and yourself are not dead. That is what the High Court wanted done after you said the Words, Champion. One cannot upset the balance of things. That would not be _fair_ for everyone.” He gave a harsh laugh that made Sarah remember she was dealing with a centuries old creature who was among the most powerful beings in existence.

Sarah said, her voice steady but her words more cautious, “You are bound to your duties both as king and as Jareth’s family so you did your best to honor both?”

The king shrugged. “I suppose so, Champion, amongst other concerns.”

“Joanna,” Sarah said, remembering the not-really-a-joke about blowing up the High Court.

“And my children. They have already harmed my daughter.”

“Christiana? What did those bastards do to her?”

Rumpelstiltskin laughed again. “My, you are quite loyal, very quickly, are you not, Sarah?”

“You and Mycroft and your silly ideas of me being some naive, stupid girl.”

“Hardly. It is not as if Joanna and I have not watched out for the girl Jareth has been interested in for fifteen or so years. You have shown wisdom in your relationships, with only a few harmful ones overall. Those relationships either ended quickly or you reduced them as much as you could.”

Sarah glared at Rumpelstiltskin. “Jareth is right. You are nosy.”

“I am concerned about my kinsman.” He looked up at the sky. Sarah heard the King mumbling something in German for several moments before speaking in English again. “I taught Jareth the names of all the constellations both Above and Below so he would always know his way home. He stopped looking after he was exiled.”

“I am sorry that I caused you and your family so much pain,” Sarah said in all sincerity.

“Thank you, but it is unnecessary. Jareth should have never approached you as he did. I never taught him such. I should have done better in my training of him.” He looked back at the garden. “You did as a young lady should when harassed by an unwanted suitor, particularly one that took a member of your family. (Now, as a former Goblin King, I cannot say he did not have a right to pursue one he was interested in nor that he was wrong in taking your brother. It was his approach that I find troublesome.) Joanna and Christiana were taught and have done similar with their unwanted suitors.”

“Did you get kicked to the curb by Joanna and then have to woo her or something?”

“Oh, no. Our situations were much different. If Joanna had not called upon me, she and Jareth both would have died from the Plague. I had no plans during her Run to immediately make her my companion. I just wanted to make sure she would survive. Besides, _she_ kissed _me_ after her Run.” Rumpelstiltskin turned around and smirked. “And that is why you do not use peaches, kinsman! It puts no small amount of mistrust in a girl when she is drugged by her suitor.”

Jareth stepped out of the shadows of the study and glared at his brother-in-law. “You were the one who suggested to Jo that she should wish me away. I had no hand in Sarah’s choice.”

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged. “It was that or let her give the both of you poison.”

Sarah was about to ask for the story when Jareth said, “Please do not tell that sentimental rubbish now. I will consent to you extracting the magic from me if only to save me from hearing that story _again_.”

Rumpelstiltskin clapped his hands together in glee. “Excellent. I am just as curious as you are about this case.”

Jareth threw himself onto a reading chair by a cheery fireplace. Christiana entered the room with her Brother and Mother. Christiana said, “I have to leave Papa. I have received word of some unwanted visitors to my realm.” She kissed her father on the cheek. Christiana turned to Sarah. “I will see you soon.” The Goblin King jumped off the balcony and transformed into a hawk as she fell. After an acrobatic swoop and turn, the Goblin King flew off into the night.

After kneeling in front of his brother-in-law, the two former Goblin Kings stared at each other for a moment before Rumpelstiltskin touched Jareth’s forehead. Jareth gripped the armrests and gritted his teeth. Rumpelstiltskin moved his hand a few seconds later and tossed a splatter of glitter into the fire.

“Now, was that so hard?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“Yes,” Jareth hissed as he placed a hand on his forehead, “Goblin magic?”

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin said. He threw his leather gloves in the fire and made another pair appear on his hands.

“I do not know the specific kind. It is not our goblins,” Jareth said.

“That is because this group left our protection a long time ago,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“Goblins did this?” Sarah asked in horror. _Sure, goblins are deadly when what they love are in danger, but they don’t make people go insane… often._

“Think, kinsman, on your history lessons,” Rumpelstiltskin said. Joanna went up to her husband and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Jareth slumped in his chair. Dante offered the last of the cookies to Sarah but she declined. She sat in the chair next to Jareth and lounged in a very Jareth like manner.

“But we were not asleep,” Jareth muttered.

“I see no other solution, Jareth,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“What?” Sarah asked.

“There oldest name is marōn. Nachtmahr in my mother tongue,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“A Mare? They only attack when a person is asleep thought!” Dante said.

“Hier leg' ich mich schlafen,/Keine Nachtmahr soll mich plagen,/Bis sie schwemmen alle Wasser,/Die auf Erden fließen,/Und tellet alle Sterne,/Die am Firmament erscheinen!/Dazu helfe mir Gott Vater, Sohn und heiliger Geist. Amen!” Rumpelstiltskin said.

Sarah looked to Jareth for a translation. He said, his face in his hands, “Here I am lying down to sleep;/No night-mare shall plague me/until they have swum through all the waters/that flow upon the earth,/and counted all stars/that appear in the skies./Thus help me God Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen!

“Nightmares? We have literally been chasing nightmares?” Sarah asked.

“Yes, they are a type of goblin that are called Mares in English,” Rumpelstiltskin said. 

“They sit on the chest of their victims and cause them to have the most horrific nightmares. Sometimes they become impatient and choke their victims to death. My kinsman had no love for them and they had no love for him. So, the Mares broke off from his protection,” Jareth said.

“But they cannot attack someone who is awake and I highly doubt all of you were sleep walking,” Dante said.

“That is the problem. We have the _what_ , but we do not have _how_ ,” Jareth said.

There was a knock at the door. Dante answered it. “Puck? What are you doing here?”

“It is the High King. He wishes for your Father to come to him as soon as possible,” Puck said.

“Dummkopf,” Rumpelstiltskin cursed, “I will be there shortly, Puck.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Puck said with a bow before disappearing.

“The High King does not know I am here, does he?” Jareth asked.

“He still does not. He would not call on me so late at night for that. No, I fear this is an honest emergency,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “Joanna will see to it that you are safely back in the Above. Dante, keep our Court safe while I am gone. Farewell, Jareth and Champion.”

Joanna pulled her husband down for a kiss, causing Dante and Jareth to make gagging noises. Joanna laughed as she broke off the kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you as well, Joanna,” Rumpelstiltskin said. He rested his head against his wife’s for a moment before leaving. He ruffled his son’s hair as he exited the room.

&%&%&%

“Your sister created a portal using a hotel room?” Sarah asked as Jareth collapsed on his bed.

“More likely Rumpelstiltskin,” Jareth said. He buried his head in a pillow. “Hmmm. Sleep.”

“You never sleep on cases.”

“He put a sleeping spell on me,” Jareth mumbled.

Sarah began rooting around in her suitcase and cursed. “I don’t have a toothbrush.”

“Use mine,” Jareth mumbled.

“You better not have any Fae germs,” Sarah said.

“Sarah, you know that I am healthy,” Jareth mumbled.

“Jareth, I know. I was teasing you.”

After brushing her teeth and kicking off her shoes, Sarah sat next to Jareth on the bed. “Sarah, I am sorry my sister punched you. She is generally not that violent.”

“Blowing up the High Court isn’t violent?” Sarah asked jokingly.

Jareth gritted his teeth. “It was that or killing those responsible, but the family would not have survived if she did the latter.”

“What happened?”

Jareth gently pulled Sarah next to him. He was quiet for several moments before speaking. “Once upon a time, there was a very clever and beautiful goblin princess (who may or may not be our current Goblin King). She was much loved by her parents, her brother, and her moody, glitter covered uncle.”

Sarah laughed at Jareth’s description of himself. He smiled as well. “The princess was lonely, however. None of the lovely, cold Fae wanted to be friends with a goblin, even when she became the princess of the Seelie Court. So, she did her best to be kind to all and worked hard to protect mortals, even if they did not always know she was the one helping.

“One day, the princess was in the mortal realm. As she moved along O'Connell Street in Dublin, she bumped into a young man. He was no one of importance. Just a poor student at Trinity University, but Sean Mcnamara captured the princess’ heart when she saw how, though obviously poor, he gave what little he had to those less fortunate than himself as he made his way down the street.

“Slowly, the princess tried to reveal her interest towards Mcnamara without seeming untoward. Eventually, he did fall for her. She loved him even more when he revealed that he could see her true form through Glamour and he still loved her. Sean even met the High King of the Seelie Court and the Goblin King and walked out in one piece.”

“An accomplishment, I am sure,” Sarah said.

Jareth moved his hand and stroked Sarah’s hair, temporarily breaking the story. “Sean was a good man. He loved Christiana and she loved him. I have rarely seen such love in my long life.”

“He died, didn’t he?”

“Sarah, do not get ahead of the story. Now, the crowned prince of the High Court was furious over this couple. How could a princess of the Seelie Court (even the goblin princess that he treated so poorly) fall for a mortal? He tried to seduce her, to show the goblin princess what ‘little’ a mortal could give her, but she refused his advances. At one point, she even hit him with a cricket bat when he became too close to her for her comfort.”

“Good for her.”

“Yes, good for her. However, this made the prince’s anger into violence. He killed Sean Mcnamara.” Jareth closed his eyes for a moment. “Dante had to tell Christiana while she was trying on her wedding dress, damn it all. I wanted to kill that hedge-born varlot, but the High King would have wiped us all out, down to the worm that helped you on your quest.” Jareth regained his composure and continued.

“The High Court refused to put the prince on trial, not because he was a prince, but because he killed a mortal. The High Queen of the Seelie Court could not bear to let the severe hurt on her daughter be unpunished. So, after making sure that not even the smallest living thing was there, she destroyed the palace of the High Court. After much maneuvering and favors given, the Seelie Court King was able to arrange that his wife be put under house arrest for a hundred years with no visitors save her family and those pesky little goblins. And the goblin princess? She refused to deal with mortals ever again… until her moody, glitter covered uncle made some rather poor choices in wooing. The End.”

Sarah said, “Poor Christiana.”

“Yes, poor Christiana,” Jareth said, “She is better than she once was, but it still pains her to speak of Sean.”

Sarah kissed Jareth’s forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I knew you would ask, precious. I did not want you asking Christiana.”

“I understand that,” Sarah said. She rested her forehead against Jareth’s as they both slipped into sleep. 

Before they did finally fall asleep, Sarah asked Jareth, “Do you still want to look for information on your family?”

“No,” Jareth said, “I asked Jo and she told me.”

“And?”

“I was one of fourteen children. Everyone except Joanna and myself were killed by the plague. The plague pits were where Baskerville are now.”

“Oh, Jareth…”

“Precious, there is nothing to be sorry for. There is nothing you could have done.”

Sarah curled up next to Jareth, resting her head on his heart. She could feel the tension in him and the pain. “I hope that sleeping spell lets you dream of good things.”

“I know that no harm will come to you. My dreams will be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This, unsurprisingly, is Jareth’s family behaving. Good grief, the angst in this chapter.
> 
> A sparkle covered mug of root beer to anyone who knows what Rumpelstiltskin said about the High King in German.
> 
> I actually wrote Rumpelstiltskin and Joanna’s story before I wrote this because I was massively stuck on what to do with this story and was having problems approaching how to write Moriarty in “The Goblin Games”.
> 
> Rumpelstiltskin roughly translates from German as a type of goblin. John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt was actually created to make fun of the influx of German immigrants to America. Mares are generally a part of German folklore. (The prayer is from Wikipedia, so I cannot swear to its accuracy.) I did not know of these facts in any sort of depth when I decided to include them in the story.


	6. Chapter VI: Take Me On Your Adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> The transcript is by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html).
> 
> There is a gif of Lestrade saying the chapter title. It is among my favorites.

Jareth awoke mid-morning, and felt cleansed of all his fears. _Why does he ALWAYS have to be right?_ Jareth carefully moved off his bed so as to not wake Sarah and failed.

“Why are you leaving?” Sarah mumbled patting where Jareth had been asleep a few moments before.

“I am going to check on Sherlock and John,” Jareth said.

“Okay. I’m taking your pillow. I have to fight the pizza.”

Jareth chuckled at his sleepy Sarah, still half in a dream. He leaned over her and kissed her head. “Sleep a little longer, precious. We have a long day ahead of us.”

&%&%&%

Jareth saw Sherlock and John walking up towards the inn. Sherlock was writing something in his notebook and showed it to John. “But what if it’s not a word? What if it is individual letters? H.O.U.N.D.”

“You think it’s an acronym?” John asked.

“Absolutely no idea but...” Sherlock stopped and Jareth saw at almost the same moment Detective Inspector Lestrade outside the pub near where the cars were parked. The inspector was heavily suntanned, wearing all gray, and dark sunglasses.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sherlock said, storming up 

“Well, nice to see you too. I’m on holiday, would you believe?” Lestrade said.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Jareth said, sauntering up to Lestrade.

Lestrade ignored the two consulting detectives and took off his sunglasses. “Hullo, John.”

“Greg!” John said. The men walked into the bar.

“I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?” Lestrade asked.

“I’m waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?” Sherlock said.

“I’ve told you; I’m on holiday,” Lestrade said.

“You’re brown as a nut. You’re clearly just back from your ‘holidays’,” Sherlock said.

“Yeah, well I fancied another one,” Lestrade said.

“Oh, this is Mycroft, isn’t it?” Jareth said.

“No, look...” Lestrade began but Jareth cut him off.

“Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to... to spy on me incognito. Is that why you’re calling yourself Greg?” Jareth said.

“That’s his name,” John said.

Sherlock and Jareth said together, “Is it?”

“Yes – if you’d ever bothered to find out. Look, I’m not your handler and I don’t just do what Mycroft tells me,” Lestrade said.

An idea sparked in Jareth. “Actually, you could be just the man we want.”

“Why?” Sherlock asked.

Jareth held up the receipt for a large quantity of meat. “This is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant. I do not think it will solve the central part of the mystery, but it will help some of it.”

“Excellent,” Sherlock said.

“Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy,” John said.

&%&%&%

Sarah woke up in time to see Sherlock forcing his coffee on John. “Don’t drink it. It is one of the foulest substances in the world,” Jareth whispered to her. She nodded and rested her head against Jareth’s shoulder as she was barely awake.

“Mm. I don’t take sugar...” John said as he took a sip of the coffee. Sherlock looked downcast. John took another sip to cheer him up.

“These records go back nearly two months,” Lestrade said to Gary and Billy, “Is that when you had the idea, after the TV show went out?”

“It’s me. It was me,” Billy said, “I’m sorry, Gary – I couldn’t help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Carol’s wedding and one thing just led to another...”

Sarah covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh at the absurdity of the lie.

“Nice try,” Lestrade said.

Gary sighed and explained. “Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know? A great big dog run wild up on the moor – it was heaven-sent. It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster.”

“Where do you keep it?” Lestrade said.

“There’s an old mineshaft. It’s not too far. It was all right there,” Gary said.

“‘Was’?” Jareth asked.

“We couldn’t control the bloody thing. It was vicious. And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, er... you know,” Gary said.

“It’s dead?” John asked.

“Put down,” Gary said.

“Yeah. No choice. So it’s over, Billy said.

“It was just a joke, you know?” Gary said.

“You’ve nearly driven a man out of his mind,” Sarah said. She left the room.

“That will be all gents,” Lestrade said, leaving the room with John close behind. Jareth noticed that Sherlock examined the coffee John had been drinking. They both left soon after that.

Outside the pub, Sarah paced until the rest arrived. “So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?” Lestrade asked.

“No reason not to,” Sherlock said.

“Well, hopefully there’s no harm done. Not quite sure what I’d charge him with anyway. I’ll have a word with the local Force. Right, that’s that, then. Catch you later.” Lestrade smiled. “I’m enjoying this! It’s nice to get London out of your lungs!”

As Lestrade walked away, John said, “So that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?”

“Looks like it,” Sherlock said.

“But that wasn’t what you saw. That wasn’t just an ordinary dog,” John said.

Sherlock’s eyes became distant. “No. It was immense, had burning red eyes and it was glowing, John. Its whole body was glowing.” He shook off the memory and went towards the car park. 

“I have a theory, but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it,” Jareth said.

“How? Sherlock can’t pull off the ID trick again,” John said.

“Might not have to,” Sherlock said. He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. “Hello, brother dear. How are you?”

Jareth turned to Sarah as John walked towards Sherlock. “There is no need for you to come.”

“I have no problems with staying with you, Jareth.”

Jareth rested his forehead against Sarah’s and held her hands. “I am not subjecting you to that place again unless there is a real need. There is not. I need you to stay with Henry. That is what would truly make you useful to me right now. Sherlock said he did not sleep well last night. He is going to need someone there to watch him.”

“You don’t like that place either,” Sarah said.

“I have to go, though. I know the most about the Mares and may be able to notice something that others do not.”

“I am not a damsel in distress.”

“I was last night though,” Jareth said. He pulled back and smirked. “It would be much more dramatic if you came riding up on a white steed to the gates of Baskerville with your motley crew by your side, don’t you think?”

Sarah smiled slightly at that. She kissed Jareth’s left cheek. “Don’t do anything too stupid.”

“I will try my best, precious.”

&%&%&%

Jareth leaned against the door to Major Barrymore’s office as Major Barrymore snarked at Sherlock. “Oh, you know I’d love to. I’d love to give you unlimited access to this place. Why not!”

“It’s a simple enough request, Major,” Sherlock said.

“I’ve never heard of anything so bizarre,” Major Barrymore said.

“You’re to give me twenty-four hours. It’s what I’ve... negotiated,” Sherlock said.

Barrymore became serious. “Not a second more. I may have to comply with this order but I don’t have to like it. I don’t know what you expect to find here anyway.”

“Perhaps the truth,” Jareth said.

“About what? Oh, I see. The big coats should have told me. You’re of the conspiracy lot, aren’t you?” Barrymore said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. The Major grinned. “Well, then, go ahead, seek them out: the monsters, the death rays, the aliens.”

“Have you got any of those?” Sherlock said. Barrymore rolled his eyes. “Oh, just wondering.”

Barrymore leaned forward. “A couple. Crash landed here in the sixties. We call them Abbott and Costello. Good luck, Mr. Holmes.”

As Sherlock left, Jareth moved towards the major. The former Goblin King said coolly, “One should be wary of things that go bump in the night, Major. You do not want to offend them.”

&%&%&%

“Honestly, you expected me not to guess that you drugged the coffee? Was it the sugar?” Jareth asked as he and Sherlock watched John on the security monitors as the good doctor freaked out in an empty lab thinking he was being chased by a hound.

“Well, that is your expertise, isn’t it?” Sherlock said.

“Ha. Ha. Oh, look, he’s calling you,” Jareth said.

After “trying” to calm John on the phone, Sherlock made his way to the lab. Jareth followed. Sherlock opened the cage John had hidden himself in that was covered in a sheet.

“Are you all right?” Sherlock asked.

John pulled himself out of the cage. He was breathing heavily, obviously terrified, and looking for “the Hound”. “It was the hound, Sherlock. It was here. I swear it, Sherlock. It must... It must... Did... did... did you see it? You must have!”

Sherlock tried to put his hand on John’s shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s okay now.”

“NO IT’S NOT! IT’S NOT OKAY! I saw it. I was wrong!” John said.

Jareth shrugged. “Well, let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“What?” John said.

“What did you see?” Jareth asked.

“I told you: I saw the hound,” John said.

“Huge? Red eyes?” Sherlock said.

“Yes,” John said.

“Glowing?” Sherlock said.

“Yeah,” John said.

“No,” Sherlock said.

“What?” John asked.

“I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged,” Sherlock said.

“Drugged?” John asked.

“Yes. I think I know from what. Can you walk?” Jareth asked.

“Of course I can walk,” John said.

“Come on, then. It’s time to lay this ghost,” Sherlock said.

&%&%&%

Doctor Stapleton was examining a fluffy white rabbit on a metal table, surrounded by cages. She looked up as the trio came through the door. “Oh. Back again? What’s on your mind this time gentlemen?”

Jareth said, “Murder, Doctor Stapleton. Refined, cold-blooded murder.” He turned off the light in the room. The rabbit was brightly glowing green. Jareth turned on the light again. “Will you tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell or shall I?” Jareth gave a goblin grin.

Doctor Stapleton sighed. “Okay. What do you want?”

“Sherlock would like to borrow your microscope,” Jareth said.

&%&%&%

Jareth leaned against one of the clean counters of a lab that Doctor Stapleton has brought them to after his request. John was sitting on a metal bar stool while Doctor Stapleton stood next to him. Sherlock was examining the sugar under a microscope, but Jareth knew that nothing would show up. Mare magic would have left some sort of residue in the sugar and Jareth saw nothing. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Doctor Stapleton said to John, “You look very peaky.”

“No, I’m all right,” John said.

“It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you’re interested,” Stapleton said, “In the rabbits. Aequoria Victoria, if you really want to know.”

“Why?” John asked.

“Why not? We don’t ask questions like that here. It isn’t done,” Stapleton said, “There was a mix-up, anyway. My daughter ended up with one of the lab specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go.”

“Your compassion is overwhelming,” Jareth said dryly.

Stapleton said just as dryly, “I know. I hate myself sometimes.”

John said, “So, come on then. You can trust me. I’m a doctor. What else have you got hidden away up here?”

“Listen: if you can imagine it, someone is probably doing it somewhere. Of course they are,” Stapleton said.

“And cloning?” John asked.

“Yes, of course. Dolly the Sheep, remember?” Stapleton said.

“Human cloning?” John asked.

“Why not?” Stapleton said.

“What about animals? Not sheep... big animals,” John said.

“Size isn’t a problem, not at all. The only limits are ethics and the law, and both those things can be... very flexible. But not here – not at Baskerville,” Doctor Stapleton said.

Sherlock tossed the slide and shouted, “It’s not there! Nothing there! Doesn’t make any sense.”

“What were you expecting to find?” Doctor Stapleton asked.

Sherlock began to pace. “A drug, of course. There has to be a drug – a hallucinogenic of some kind from a Mare. There’s no trace of anything in the sugar.”

“Sugar?” John asked.

“The sugar, yes. It’s a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound – saw it as my imagination expected me to see it: a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn’t believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics, even magically mixed. Henry Knight – he saw it and Jareth too, but you and Sarah didn’t. You didn’t see it. Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing: you and Sarah don’t take sugar in your coffee.”

“I see,” John sighed, “So...”

“I took it from Henry’s kitchen – his sugar. It’s perfectly all right,” Sherlock said.

“But maybe it’s not a drug,” John said.

“No, it has to be a drug. I would have sensed the magic much easier otherwise,” Jareth said, “The question is… how did it get into our systems.” Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We should leave him be,” John said, “He might be a…”

“It isn’t a dog!” Jareth suddenly said, “Bloody Hades, the two of you stumbled on it ages ago. It is a project! You government types love initials.”

&%&%&%

Stapleton lead the group along a corridor and used her card to swipe them into the area leading to Major Barrymore’s office. As they went into the room, Stapleton sat down at a computer.

“Project H.O.U.N.D. I heard about it several years ago but deemed it unimportant,” Jareth said, “It was an experiment in a CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana using creatures not belonging to any court or kingdom. I do not remember what the project involved. Type in H, O, U, N, D.”

Stapleton typed in the code but was blocked. “That’s as far as my access goes, I’m afraid.” She stood up and walked to the doorway.

“Well, there must be an override and password,” John said.

“I imagine so, but that’d be Major Barrymore’s,” Stapleton said.

Jareth flipped on the light in the room and slowly spun in a circle in Major Barrymore’s chair. “He sat here when he thought it up. Describe him to me.”

“You’ve seen him,” Doctor Stapleton said.

“But describe him,” Jareth said.

“Er, he’s a bloody martinet, a throw-back, the sort of man they’d have sent into sewers,” Stapleton said.

“Old-fashioned, traditionalist; not the sort that would use his children’s names as a password. He loves his job; he is proud of it and this is work-related, so what is at eye level?” Jareth rapidly scanned the room without altering the angle of his eyes. Books. Sarah would make some quip about _Doctor Who_ and books being the most powerful weapons in the world. Let us see what Barrymore’s weapons are. _Jane’s Defence Weekly_ – bound copies. Hannibal; Wellington; Rommel; Churchill’s _History of the English-Speaking Peoples_ – all four volumes.” Jareth stood up. “Oh look, a bust of old Winston. Well, he is fond of Churchill. Copy of _The Downing Street Years_ ; one, two, three, four, five separate biographies of Thatcher.” Jareth looked down at a framed photograph on the desk of a man in uniform standing with his teenage son. “Mid nineteen eighties at a guess. Father and son: Barrymore senior. Medals: Distinguished Service Order. John, your opinion.”

“That date? I’d say Falklands veteran,” John said.

“Right. So Thatcher is looking a more likely bet than Churchill,” Jareth said. He went back to the computer.

“So that’s the password?” Stapleton asked.

“Maggie,” Jareth said as he confidently typed in the name.

Jareth quickly whittled down the documents to find the information he needed: “extreme suggestibility”, “fear and stimulus”, “conditioned terror”, “aerosol dispersal”. A photograph came up of the project team posing happily together and Jareth identified the five project leaders amongst the larger group: Elaine Dyson, Mary Uslowski, Rick Nader, Jack O’Mara and Leonard Hansen. Clearing the photo from the screen he rearranged the names into another order: Leonard **H** ansen, Jack **O** ’Mara, Mary **U ******slowski, Rick **N** ader, Elaine **D** yson.

H.O.U.N.D.” Stapleton said. The cool scientist’s face quickly became horrified at the effects of the Project. “Paranoia”, “Severe frontal lobe damage”, “Blood-brain” “Gross cranial trauma”, “Dangerous acceleration”, “Multiple homicide”, and the photographs of some of the subjects of the project as they screamed 

“Project H.O.U.N.D.: a new deleriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. Someone found some Mares and wanted to see how they ticked. The scientists wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus; but they shut it down and hid it away in 1986.” 

“Because of what it did to the subjects they tested it on,” Stapleton said. 

“And what they did to others. Prolonged exposure drove them insane – made them almost uncontrollably aggressive,” Sherlock said. 

“So someone’s been doing it again – carrying on the experiments?” John asked. 

“Attempting to refine it, perhaps, for the last twenty-six years,” Jareth said. 

“Who?” Stapleton asked. 

“Those names mean anything to you?” John asked. 

“No, not a thing,” Stapleton asked. 

“Five principal scientists, twenty-six years ago,” Jareth said, “Sherlock, can you take over and zoom in on the people in the photographs?” 

The two men switched spots. Sherlock showed that the shirts in the picture had the word “H.O.U.N.D.” on them as well as some smaller lettering. 

“Maybe our friend is somewhere in the back of the picture – someone who was old enough to be there at the time of the experiments in 1986...” Jareth paused and rolled his eyes. “Maybe somebody who says ‘cell phone’ because of time spent in America. You remember, Sherlock? He gave us his number in case we needed him." 

Stapleton suddenly understood as well. “Oh my God. Bob Frankland. But Bob doesn’t even work on... I mean, he’s a virologist. This was chemical warfare. I know he can’t go to where we keep the magic objects. They can be so barbaric very few can go there.” 

Jareth twitched but kept his focus on Doctor Frankland. “It’s where he started, though... and he’s never lost the certainty, the obsession that that drug really could work. Nice of him to give us his number. We should call him.” 

As if waiting for such a moment, Jareth’s phone began to ring and he quickly answered it. “Hello?" 

“I am not hurt, Jareth,” Sarah said. She took shallow breaths. “You need to find Henry.” 

“Sarah what’s wrong?” Jareth asked. 

“We were talking and Henry started remembering. He tried to remember. The Mares’ magic must still be in him because he thought I was the hound. He tried to shoot me but he is a bad shot. I am not hurt.” 

“I will find him,” Jareth said coolly. 

“Jareth, he is sick. He would never harm me if he wasn’t sick,” Sarah said, “I am fine. I am not hurt. I am a little shaken, but you do not have to kill Henry.” 

Jareth was quiet for a moment. “You are not lying to me?” 

“Why would I lie if I was shot?” Sarah asked. 

“Lestrade will pick you up. I’m sure he has gone back to the start. The way forward is the way back, after all,” Jareth said. 

“Okay. Don’t kill Henry and don’t get yourself killed. Promise me.” 

“I promise, precious,” Jareth said. 

“I will call Lestrade and tell him to bring a gun. You go find Henry.” 

“I am leaving right now,” Jareth said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The game, dear readers, is on!


	7. Chapter VII: The Only Thing to Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> The transcript is by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html).

Jareth, Sherlock, and John left Baskerville as quickly as they could run out of the facility. Sherlock drove the car partially off-road to get to the Hollow faster. They abandoned the car when they reached the forest. By the time they were in the forest, it was dark out and even the flashlights did little to light the darkness. They found Henry kneeling in the Hollow with a gun in his mouth.

“No, Henry, no! No!” Sherlock said.

The three scrambled down the slope. Sherlock’s voice caused Henry to pull the gun out of his mouth and stand up. He waved the gun in the other men’s direction and was hysterical. “Get back. Get – get away from me!”

“Easy, Henry. Easy. Just relax,” John said.

“I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!” Henry screamed.

“Just put the gun down. It’s okay,” John said.

“No, no, I know what I am!” Henry said.

Jareth spoke in a quiet tone that he rarely used since the end of his child snatching days. “Yes, I’m sure you do, Henry. It’s all been explained to you, hasn’t it – explained very carefully.”

“What?” Henry said.

“Adults are cruel, very cruel. Someone needed to keep you quiet. Someone needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you’d both clung on to, because you had started to remember. Remember now, Henry. You’ve got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy. You need to take control of the dream.”

The hand carrying the gun dropped for a moment before Henry raised the gun again. “I thought it had got my dad – the hound. I thought ... Oh Je... oh Jesus, I don’t – I don’t know any more!” Henry began to sob and tried to put the gun his mouth again.

John lurched forward but not close enough. “No, Henry! Henry, for God’s sake!”

Jareth kept speaking quietly. “You were right, Henry. I was the Goblin King. I controlled dreams, but not anymore. You are having a waking nightmare. I can’t make this nightmare stop, but you can. The only way to stop it is to force yourself to remember reality. Henry, remember. ‘Liberty In.’ Two words; two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago.”

Henry began to calm somewhat, but the gun was still in his mouth.

Jareth crouched to Henry’s level. “You had started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn’t an animal, was it, Henry? Not a monster. A man. A man who was as good as a kinsman to you. You couldn’t cope. You were just a child, so you rationalized it into something very different. All children do. That is where nightmares come from: children trying to rationalize a terrible world. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no one would believe a word that you said.”

Quietly John stepped forward, holding out his hand encouragingly towards Henry. Lestrade and Sarah arrived and made their way down the slope towards the group.

“Jareth! Henry!” Sarah shouted.

John spoke quietly to Henry. “Okay, it’s okay, mate.” He carefully took the pistol form Henry’s fingers.

“But we saw it: the hound, last night. We s... we, we, we did, we saw...” Henry sobbed quietly.

Jareth held his hand back for Sarah to grab but he kept his eyes on Henry. “Yes, but there was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that’s how it works. But there never was any monster.”

“Ludo is here. He says he smells a dog nearby,” Sarah said quietly to Jareth.

“Why is Ludo here?” Jareth asked.

Before Sarah could answer, the hound howled in the woods above him. Everyone looked up. John and Greg aimed their flashlights at the rim of trees. A low shape paced its way slowly around the top.

“Jareth, that is not a dog,” Sarah said.

Henry began to panic. “No. No, no, no, no!” 

Sarah wrapped her arms around Henry and tried to make him look away from the hound. “Shush. It’s all right. Shush. You have some of the best men I know taking care of us. It’s all right. Nothing will happen. I promise. All nightmares end. Shush.”

Henry kept saying no, but he crumpled to the ground. Sarah covered Henry’s eyes with her hand. The hound turned towards the group fully. It snarled and snapped its teeth. Its eyes glowed in torchlight.

“Greg, are you seeing this?” John asked, “Right: he is not drugged, so what’s that? What is it!”

Jareth kept his eyes on the dog, trying to see through the magic but he could barely make out where reality ended and magic wove itself in.

“All right! It’s still here... but it’s just a dog. Henry! It’s nothing more than an ordinary dog!” Jareth said.

The hound took offense at that and let out a terrifying howl. The hound’s eyes began to glow red as it made its way down the slope. Henry tried to look up but Sarah kept him pinned down. “It won’t harm you. They’ll kill it. Jareth is what monsters are scared of.”

Jareth looked back towards where Henry had fallen and he saw a tall human figure in the mist. The new arrival wore a breathing mask with a clear visor over his face. It began to walk towards Henry and Sarah. Jareth turned and ran towards the man in the mask. The detective grabbed at the mask and ripped it off to fully reveal the man’s face.

Jim Moriarty grinned manically back at Jareth

Jareth’s courage gave out for a moment and real fear gripped him. “No!” Moriarty’s face morphed violently back and forth between another human face and some sick caricature of a Hell Hound. “It’s not you! You’re not here!” Jareth shouted. He tried to unravel the magic but it was taking too long. Jareth head butted the creature, causing it to crumple slightly before standing up again.

It was Bob Frankland. He was covering his mouth and nose with his hand. Jareth looked around, still panicked, but he realized why it was so hard to see the edges of the magic.

“The fog,” Jareth said.

“What?” Sherlock said.

“It’s the fog! Aerosol dispersal – that’s what it said in those records. Project H.O.U.N.D. – it’s the fog! A chemical minefield! They made the Mare’s poison into something they could put into the air!” Jareth said.

Frankland saw the hound and shouted, “For God’s sake, kill it! Kill it!”

Greg shot at the hound three times but missed. A low moan was heard and a rock smashed into the dog, causing it to stop stalking towards the group. John shot his gun and hit the hound accurately. It fell backwards and squealed in pain as it crashed to the ground. It stopped moving. Jareth ran over to Henry and Sarah, grabbing them both. He pulled Henry towards the hound but kept Sarah at his side.

“Look at it, Henry,” Jareth said.

Henry struggled. “No, no, no!”

Jareth let go of Sarah and made Henry stand in front of the dog. “Come on, look at it!”

Sherlock’s flashlight moved over the canine but it was no Hell Hound. It was just a very large dog. After a moment of staring at the undone nightmare, Henry turned to look at Frankland.

“It’s just... you bastard,” Henry said. He threw himself at the older man and began to try to beat the scientist. “You bastard! Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn’t you just kill me?” 

Lestrade and John pulled Henry off Frankland. Jareth adjusted his gloves before speaking. 

“As someone who has learned how to destroy people since he was a teenager, I can tell you it is because dead men get listened to. Frankland needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield, pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here.” Jareth held out his arms in triumph and spun slowly. “Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once.” Jareth gave a cold laugh. “Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you. It’s been brilliant.”

“Jareth,” Sarah hissed.

“What?” Jareth asked.

“Timing,” Sarah said.

“Not good?” Jareth asked, honestly confused.

“No, no, it’s – it’s okay,” Henry said. He began to move towards Frankland but John kept in-between them. “It’s fine, because this means... this means that my dad was right.” Sherlock and Greg kept a hand on Henry’s shoulders to keep him from moving towards Frankland. “He found something out, didn’t he, and that’s why you’d killed him – because he was right, and he’d found you right in the middle of an experiment.”

Frankland got onto his feet. The dog snarled again, startling the group. The dog tried to stand but John shot it again. Doctor Frankland took the chance and ran away from the group. The posse ran after him. 

As Frankland reached the top of the rim and ran into the forest, a great tall monster stood in its path. It howled and small rocks hit the scientist. Frankland pulled a needle out from a pack at his side and stabbed the monster’s hand as he ran past. Ludo jumped back, unused to harm befalling it in any form. After a moment of confusion, Ludo collapsed onto the forest floor. 

At that point, Sarah had come into view and she screamed when she saw that Ludo had collapsed. She ran towards her friend and slid by his side. Jareth ran after Sarah while the rest went after Doctor Frankland.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God. It has to be a nightmare,” Sarah said hysterically.

“Sarah, Ludo has been hurt,” Jareth said calmly as he sensed no Mare magic around Ludo.

“No. No. No,” Sarah said over and over, “It’s not real. This is one of my nightmares.”

Jareth wrapped himself around Sarah and rocked her back and forth. “Sarah, I am going to tell you what I told Henry. You have to take control of this. You can help Ludo. I can call the Goblin King to help but only if you can began medical attention on Ludo, do you understand?”

An explosion went off in the direction the group had gone. Jareth tried to stand but Sarah pulled him back down. “You can’t die! I can’t lose you! Please. If this isn’t a nightmare, you have to stay.”

Jareth nodded. “Help your friend, Sarah and then I can call the Goblin King.”

Sarah took a deep breath and gently put her hands on Ludo’s arm. “Once upon a time, there was a selfish girl named Sarah. One day, she wished away her brother to the handsome, scary, glittery Goblin King. She had to run the Labyrinth to get her brother back. Along the way, she heard a low moan and saw some goblins torturing a great monster…”

&%&%&%

Within an hour, the Goblin King had taken Ludo away (with the promise that the Rock Caller would be well), it was revealed Doctor Frankland had stepped on a land mine, and Baskerville had come to clean it all up.

Jareth and Sarah sat together on the ground, leaning against the Land Rover. Sarah was wearing Jareth’s coat and had her arms wrapped tightly around Jareth. Sherlock, Lestrade, and Henry were finishing their statements with Baskerville when John came and sat in front of Jareth and Sarah.

“Your friend the yeti…”

“Ludo is a Rock Caller,” Sarah said.

“Right. Um, what happened to him?” John asked.

“Frankland had a liquid form of the Mare poison. Highly concentrated. He was probably planning on stabbing Henry with it if Henry did not kill himself in a timely fashion,” Jareth said.

“Will Ludo be all right?” John asked.

“Rossetti thinks so,” Sarah said.

The three fell silent until Lestrade, Sherlock and Henry returned. “I’ll take Henry home,” Lestrade said.

“Thanks for everything,” Henry said. He scratched his head and looked at Jareth quizzically. “You really did take my great-grandmother?”

“Her name was Gladys. Her mother, Edith, wished her away when Gladys ripped several embroidered gowns. Edith completed the Labyrinth in twelve hours and twenty-nine minutes. Gladys’ wish when she was of age was that she would have a husband who loved her,” Jareth said.

Henry nodded. “Thanks for telling me the truth finally.”

“We all have things we must protect, Mr. Knight. I do not tell people that part of my past unless someone’s life depends on it,” Jareth said.

Henry nodded again. “I will get better?”

“All nightmares fade once they are shown to be false in the light of day,” Jareth said.

“Thanks. I think I can actually sleep now,” Henry said.

“You think you can drive, Sherlock?” Lestrade asked.

“Of course I can drive,” Sherlock said arrogantly. He climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door behind him.

“I think that means it’s time to go,” John said, “Good-bye, Greg.”

“Bye, folks. Be careful,” Greg said.

Jareth and Sarah went into the back seat and John sat up front. As they drove away, John turned around to face Jareth.

“Was it true what you said back there? About nightmares being from children rationalizing a cruel world?” John asked.

Jareth said quietly, “Fairies were born from the first baby’s laugh. Goblins were made when the first child was offered as a sacrifice to the Labyrinth. Mares were created when the first terrible thing was done to a child. All three grow when more of the same is done.”

“Why aren’t there more Mares than?” John asked.

“Because it is the job of the Goblin King to protect children and their dreams, even if it means to protect those children from their kinsmen or their nightmares,” Jareth said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I did not plan at all the Mares’ origin when I was writing this story. I was having major writer’s block and was working on this scene and I went, “Oh, so THAT’S where the title of this story came from.” I had a strong urge to pet my subconscious and also to yell at it for not telling me this sooner. I also was writing this section at five in the morning so I was thinking a lot of funny things


	8. Chapter VIII: Bright Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by “The Thin White Sleuth…” by Pika-la-Cynique (http://pika-la-cynique.deviantart.com/art/The-Thin-White-Sleuth-277488920) of Girls Next Door fame. 
> 
> The transcript is by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/28352.html).
> 
> The title of this chapter refers to the poem of the same name by John Keats.

As they walked into the inn, Jareth stopped and sniffed the air. “It’s a trap,” he whispered.

“What?” Sarah asked.

“My sister is making cookies. She wants something,” Jareth said. He strutted into the kitchen and found Joanna eating cookie dough as some cookies baked in the oven.

“Gary and Billy were kind enough to let me use the kitchen,” Joanna said, “Ginger snaps, your favorite.”

Jareth grabbed a spoon and ate a bite of cookie dough. “What’s wrong?” Jareth asked.

“Now, Jay, why would you ever think something is wrong?” Joanna asked, “Evening boys, Sarah.”

“That wasn’t a no,” Jareth said.

Joanna sighed. “All right. I was worried. Christiana told me that Ludo had been hurt from your adventures and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“The Mare magic will wear out by morning,” Jareth said.

“Why is the High Queen of the Seelie Court baking cookies?” Sherlock asked.

“We all have our hobbies,” Joanna said, “Besides, Jareth is too skinny. This is the only thing he will consistently eat when it is placed in front of him. Sarah, I expected you to fatten him up.”

Sarah pointed at herself. “Me? Like I could make Jareth eat. He refuses to eat during cases and our refrigerator is better suited for a morgue.”

The timer went off and Joanna pulled the cookies out of the oven. Jareth took another scoop of cookie dough. 

“Not to mention that Sarah’s cooking is almost as bad as Sherlock’s,” Jareth said.

“Like you’re one to talk. You burned water!” Sarah said.

“I got distracted by a blood sample,” Jareth said. He tried to take a cookie from the sheet but was smacked by Joanna.

“Hot, burn the baby brother,” Joanna said.

Jareth pouted and Joanna mimicked him. _Good grief, they are siblings._ “Go sit with Sarah and wait until the cookies are cool. Doctor Watson, I have been informed you make the perfect cup of tea. Would you be so kind as to prepare some?”

“I wouldn’t say perfect, but our detectives don’t seem to mind,” John said. 

“That is good enough for me,” Joanna said, “So, who did the evil deed?”

“An uncle figure trying to cover his past sins. He was killed trying to escape,” Jareth said.

“It is a bit more complicated than that,” Sherlock said.

“Do tell the story, Mr. Holmes,” Joanna said, “Stories are very important to me.”

Sherlock launched into a detailed (and sometimes overly analytical) description of the case. When he got to the part where Sarah left the car and Sherlock shouted at Jareth to snog her, Joanna stopped him.

“Why would you encourage them to rush such a big decision?” Joanna asked.

“What decision? It’s just snogging,” Sherlock said.

“What? No. A mutual kiss makes two people bound until one or both of their deaths,” Joanna said. She turned and glared at her brother. “Jareth Miller, did you not tell Sarah this?”

Jareth avoided eye contact. “The issue has never come up.”

“Miller?” John said. “Was that a family name or…”

Joanna pinched the bridge of her nose. “My father was a miller, yes.”

“You’re the bloody Miller’s Daughter and you married Rumpelstiltskin!” John said.

“There are many millers in the world and I was not the one in that story. A happy coincidence,” Joanna said, “By all the saints, Jareth has run off.”

&%&%&%

Sarah found Jareth in their room, moping on his bed. “Jareth, are you all right?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I was not trying to deceive you,” Jareth said.

“I can believe that,” Sarah said. She laid down on the best next to Jareth. “I think you have shown repeatedly this past year that you want me, but only if I come to you on my own.”

Jareth turned and wrapped an arm around Sarah’s waist. “I would not have bound you to me without you knowing the consequences.”

Sarah rested her head against Jareth’s heart. “I think I understand you more.”

“How is that, precious?”

“Tonight, when Ludo was hurt I was reminded of my nightmares before I came to 221b. Even then, when you were my enemy, I did not want you dead. Now… I just… I do not want you leave, just like you don’t want me to leave. You are important to me. You are one of the most important people in my life and I can’t have you die.”

Jareth gave Sarah a gentle hug. “Thank you for telling me. It is… comforting to me to know that you would miss me.”

Sarah closed her eyes and shivered. “What did you see when you took off Frankland’s mask?”

“The end,” Jareth said, “Well, a means to the end.”

“Are you scared of dying?” 

“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;/I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night,” Jareth whispered.

“Did you make that up?” Sarah asked.

“No. It is from a poem called ‘The Old Astronomer’ by Sarah Williams.”

“I never wrote that.”

Jareth chuckled. “No, precious, you did not. This Sarah Williams died about two hundred years ago. She is really only known for this poem.”

“What is it about?”

“Well, an old astronomer, of course. He is speaking to his pupil and the astronomer is telling the pupil that he is going to die and that his work is unfinished, but that is all right. The pupil can continue working on it. The old astronomer is not scared of death, because he knows that there is good on the other side.”

“It sounds beautiful.”

“It is a bit pretentious at times, but yes, it is rather beautiful. I am not scared of death, Sarah. I am worried though about what will happen to those I care about if I am not here. I am not very good at protecting them, but I do offer some sort of barrier. I am down right useless most of the time.”

“You are not useless,” Sarah said, pushing herself to look Jareth in the eye, “Tonight, you calmed Henry down from committing suicide. You figured out what was causing the insanity. You save so many people. How can you say that you are useless?”

Jareth leaned forward and kissed Sarah’s forehead. “You are such an encouragement to an old villain like myself.”

“You are not the villain… anymore.”

“I suppose not.” Jareth was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Jo is going to shove those cookies down my throat if I do not go down soon. Will you join me?”

“Of course.”

&%&%&%

The flatmates took one of the first trains back to London. Sarah typed up the case on the train while Jareth switched between sleeping and eating ginger snaps. They were home in time for lunch where Mrs. Hudson surprised them with some apple pie.

Jareth slept for most of the day. Sarah felt ready to burst. She had to tell him but she did not want a grumpy Jareth to deal with when she told him something so important. _With how often he goes without sleep, you would think he would react better to waking up._

It was almost ten-thirty in the evening when Sarah received a text from John. “Check your blog NOW. JW.”

“What’s wrong?”

“BLOG! NOW! JW.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and opened up her blog. There was a post there that she had not put up. She clicked on the video and sat in horror as she heard a familiar Irish accent take a tour around 221b, commenting on the smell of Mrs. Hudson’s apple pie baking. When the video finished, she ran over to where Jareth had fallen asleep on the couch.

“Jareth, you need to wake up.”

Jareth grabbed Sarah’s hand and mumbled, “Ten more minutes.”

“Jareth, this is an emergency.”

“I don’t smell smoke and you would have screamed if you got hurt. I’m sleeping.”

“It’s Moriarty.”

Jareth sat up and was fully awake. “What did he…?”

Sarah showed Jareth the video.

“That’s what the meeting was about,” Jareth said, “Oberon was telling Rumpelstiltskin that Moriarty was being released.”

&%&%&%

Sarah watched Jareth from the doorway of 221b as he examined the flat, checking for any bugs he could see but they would not know anything until Mycroft’s underlings arrived. It kept him busy and calm. That was what was important. They had no idea what Moriarty had done to the flat or what his exact intentions were with leaving the video beyond scaring them. Jareth would be wearing himself out for nothing if he went on a rant. And if he went on a rant, Sarah was certain she would follow him and encourage him to kill Moriarty at the most convenient opportunity.

_This is our home. He invaded OUR HOME. How could this happen again?_

Lost in her thoughts, Sarah did not realize Jareth was standing in front of her until he spoke. “Precious, I will stop him.” He stroked her face, causing Sarah to close her eyes.

“I know you will. Promise me something.”

“What do you want, precious?”

“You won’t let him destroy you.”

“Not as long as you are here.”

_How can I have been scared to tell him?_

Sarah opened her eyes. She placed Jareth’s right hand over her heart and said, “I love you, Jareth.”

The joy in his eyes made Sarah want to cry. Jareth placed Sarah’s right hand on his heart. “I love you, Sarah.”

The doorbell rang, making both of them jump. Mycroft’s goons came in and swept the place for bugs (finding a small amount compared to the last time). They left in under an hour. Jareth did not let go of Sarah’s hand the entire time.

“Follow me,” he whispered to Sarah.

Sarah could not help but smile at how excited Jareth was. He led her up the stairs and pulled down a ladder from the ceiling of the top floor. After making their way into the attic, he helped Sarah up onto the slanted roof. 

“I am not going to let you fall, I promise Sarah,” Jareth said, pulling her next to him. “I know you don’t like heights but trust me, I would throw myself off first to break your fall.”

“I don’t want you to fall either,” Sarah said, wrapping her arms around Jareth’s waist.

Jareth wrapped an arm around Sarah and used his other arm to point to an area in the sky. “All right, you can’t see the stars very well from here in the city, but there, that star, that’s the North Star,” Jareth said, “It is always there, always waiting to lead you home.” He turned to face Sarah. “I told you once I would place my love between the stars. Whenever you doubt that, just look for the North Star. I will always love you like the North Star will always be there.”

Sarah felt something catch in her throat. “Well, I certainly can’t top that.”

“You are my North Star as well, precious. You keep me on the right path, even when I no longer know the way home.”

Sarah did not notice that she had started crying. Jareth softly kissed each tear away. “I love you, Sarah.”

“I love you too, Jareth.” Sarah shifted and placed her hands so that she could touch Jareth’s face. “For forever,” she said before she kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 1. YAY! JARETH AND SARAH TOGETHER! 2. BOO! MORIARTY! (And yes, the video is up on John’s blog. I did not make this up. It is freaky.)
> 
> The “Bright Star” that John Keats writes about is the North Star. *puddle of feels over poem, movie, and Mr. Keats himself*
> 
> Thank you for reading! The next story to be publish will be “The Goblin King and the Miller’s Daughter” about Rumpelstiltskin and Joanna which should be out by the end of July at the latest (though I am aiming for the middle of July). After that, the next chapter of our dynamic duo is “Up or Down?” a.k.a. “The Reichenbach Fall” which should be out by the beginning of September… once I am able to move out of the fetal position. *sob* I REALLY DON’T WANT TO DO THIS TO THE CHARACTERS! *sob*


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